Every Hour Wounds
by ZombieJNNFR
Summary: When Alianor Dayne accompanied her father to Winterfell, the last thing on her mind was marriage. But when her father springs some unexpected news on her, life as she knows it changes. And Bran Stark has a big part in it. Bran/OC (Other couples mentioned, but not the main focus)
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer: I understand that every character (bar the obvious OCs, and even then, House Dayne itself isn't mine) in this story are the sole property of George R. R. Martin. This story will never be published professionally, commercially or used for profit, it is simply to be read on this website for fun. It is separate from the canon plotlines established by George R. R. Martin and I am just borrowing GRRM's fascinating world and mythos for a time, to explore my own methods of character development and persistence (I need to finish at least one story, gosh darn it, and EHW, I choose you!) So, sit back, relax, and read if you want to. :)**

**XO Jennifer**

**Every Hour Wounds**

**Prologue**

Merek Dayne had been lord of Starfall for only a short time, in relation to the other Lords of Westeros. Rising to prominence after the old house of Dayne ended, when Edric Dayne, his cousin, was never found after the wars. The Lady Allyria had died during the wars also, though how she had died was still much disputed. Many assumed suicide, after her betrothed, Beric Dondarrion died.

With the main seat of Starfall vacant, the new High Queen, Daenerys Targaryen, had summoned him, a lesser lord of Dayne, to take his place there. With his young daughters and wife, he gladly took the opportunity, swore allegiance to the High Queen, and settled at Starfall.

After years of working diligently with the High Queen and other lords in Dorne and the south, Merek had made House Dayne one of the most respected names in all of Westeros. Now he was travelling North, in hopes of creating a bond between House Dayne and House Stark. With his other daughters married into almost every other great house in Westeros, House Stark was the final missing piece in his collection. And what a piece it would be.

Since the end of the turbulent years of war, peace had spread through the kingdom under the new reign of their sovereign, Daenerys Targaryen, so these sorts of marriages were for trade connections and small political gain only, among the higher lords.

After the wars, Daenerys had divided Westeros in two, into North and a South. Those in the South swore allegiance to her, and the lords ruled over their territories, but reported to her on a regular basis. Those in the North did the same, but reported Bran Stark. The King of the North.

Both rulers were just, wise and worked with each other to keep peace in Westeros. Daenerys had realised that ruling the North alone, from the South made little sense, as their needs were so different to those in the South and knew unrest would arise if they were ruled by a Queen in the South; after all they had fought for.

So when she learned of the respect and loyalty those in the North felt towards the Starks, she worked with the Lord of Winterfell, Bran Stark, and they drew up a constitution together, the first of its kind. Mutual respect and friendship between the High Queen and King strengthened the union.

The High Queen was ruler of the Seven Kingdoms in name and practise, but Bran Stark was loyal to her, and dealt with the day-to-day ruling of the North. This compromise in power united Westeros in a way never before seen.

Merek Dayne's plan to bond his House with that of the Stark's would afford him the greatest possible trade and political links with the North, and greater strength and sway in the politics of the South. Powerful allies meant everything, even in the current times, when war was far from thought. But, the only way to ensure he got those bonds was to wed his final, youngest daughter to Bran Stark. The only Stark left unmarried.

Except, she didn't know that this was why they were travelling to Winterfell. At least, not the betrothal and marriage to Bran Stark bit. She thought it was like their routine visits to the other Lords in the South, meant to upkeep and form alliances, no doubt.

Merek was not looking forward to breaking this news to her. Which was why, only hours before their arrival, Alianor Dayne, his youngest daughter, was still none the wiser as to what awaited her in Winterfell…


	2. The Ride

Chapter 1

There were only so many Northern farms you can see in a day before they all begin to look alike. Same goes for fields. If you stretch that to five days, you don't even notice them at all; they just become a green blur to your left and right. The only thing you actually can see is the dusty, rock-strewn road ahead of you, twisting through gentle slopes and arching over little rivers.

Alianor Dayne took some small comfort in the steady rock of her horse, Des, as he slowly plodded along behind her father and the front half of their riding party. She continued to stare ahead, into the distance, wondering when she'd catch her first glimpse of the new, towering turrets of Winterfell.

The ride from Starfall to Winterfell was never going to be a comfortable one, if not only because of the distance, but because, like most high-born women, Alianor had to wear a gods-awful gown and ride side-saddle. The cramps in her sides and thighs were only bearable due to the fact that she had lost all feeling in her body from the waist down after their ninth hour of riding that day.

If waking before sun-rise hadn't been bad enough, continuing to ride in the pouring rain, at her father's insistence, was enough to drive her insane. It wasn't the rain itself that bothered her, but the constant wittering of the ladies of her father's court on what the rain was doing to their hair and gowns. Alianor couldn't care less.

Before she reached the stage of giving in and murdering her present company, Alianor gently coaxed Des into a light trot and drew up beside her father.

"Father, what are you going to be doing in Winterfell that requires so many ladies of our court to accompany us? I'd understand this number if we were going to King's Landing to see Queen Daenerys, but Winterfell?"

Merek glanced at his daughter, before focusing on the horizon again, replying shortly, in his usual calm, sombre voice.

"Alianor, we are going to Winterfell to form an alliance with the Starks. They are the most powerful House north of King's Landing, and to have them as an ally would secure our families place among those in the courts of King's Landing. We need a good trade partner in the North, even more so since we have begun to work so closely with houses in the lower parts of the North. You know that. Also, the ladies of our court wished to see the North. Surely you wouldn't question the curiosity of your friends, given how…adventurous you are, my child?"

Alianor knew all this, of course. It was all her father had spoken of in the months before they set out of their journey. But she also knew that not one of the ladies she had spoken to the past few days seemed in the slightest bit keen to "see the North." Which made her wonder, still, why her father had brought almost have of their court along with him. Maybe he wished to impress King Stark with the finery of Starfall, in hopes of securing this trade agreement?

Either way, Alianor had little care for the women behind them. They were obsessed with the stupidest things. The latest Southern hair styles, fashions, gossip, needlework…Blah, blah, blah… It was all noise to her. The only upside to spending time with the other women was when they ventured out into the grounds of Starfall to watch her father's knights train. They were there to giggle over the oh-so-handsome men, she was there to learn. She was able to watch every sword fight, every jousting practise, and every shot the archers made… Then practise them all on her own later on, when she had finally evaded the soft, pristine claws of the ladies of the court.

A training bow and small quiver of arrows, a stolen sword and an antique dagger found in the vaults of Starfall were her weapons of choice (well, the weapons she could get without alerting anyone to her ventures) and a small grove amongst the orchards was her practise grounds.

She wasn't very good with swords and daggers, but that didn't bother her too much. She was a decent archer, and it was more about defying her mother and father's wishes for her to be the perfect little lady than it was about becoming the most skilful female warrior since Arya Stark, or Brienne of Tarth.

Not that she ever could be a perfect little lady. Her lack of skill in dancing, needlework or anything even remotely lady-like was well known throughout Starfall, if not Dorne in its entirety. She wasn't the prettiest of her sisters, but since they were known to be some of the most beautiful women in the whole of Westeros, that was hardly a bad thing.

Alianor had the pale skin, dark brown hair (almost black) which hung just past her shoulder blades, and deep, violet eyes that Dayne's often had. She was slightly… flatter than most Dayne women, not quite as curvaceous and graceful, but not dumpy and heavy-footed either. She was shorter than most, and yet, somehow lanky, like a tall child.

Her breasts were nothing to speak of, if overheard conversations from the castle guards were anything to go by, but that didn't bother her. Breasts got in the way, if anything; and she didn't relish in being the subject of male attention like the other girls her age.

Horse riding and archery were her favourite pass-times. She was fairly adept at mounted-archery, which was a piece of private knowledge, that she took pride in. Going on a "relaxing ride" for a day, with her bow and quiver hidden behind the saddle bags of food and water was a luxury she tried to indulge as often as possible. With guards watching a perimeter of a fair few miles around Starfall and its grounds, she was allowed to ride with only her hand-maid, Orla, as her companion, as long as they stopped by the outposts of guards every now and then.

Orla was well aware of Alianor's hobbies, for she was the one who found the training bow and antique dagger when she was working around the castle and its grounds. She understood how her mistress felt, to a degree at least. The feeling of being trapped because of your place in society. As a fairly low-born girl, her way of over-coming society's boundaries was to become the maid of a high-born lady, and escape the harsh life her family knew. She saw Alianor as trapped too. Expected to be a painted doll her whole life, the picture of poise and elegance, when she was nothing like that. As different as their worlds were, Orla and Alianor had a shared want of freedom from the lives they knew, which bonded them as close friends, not just maid and mistress.

Dropping back from beside her father, Alianor aligned herself with Orla's horse and struck up a quiet conversation with her beloved hand-maid, mocking the women of the court in hushed whispers and chuckles for the rest of the journey, much to the displeasure of her mother.

Finally, after a few more hours riding, the sun was ready to start its final decent in the sky and the fields of gold began to glow with the faint orange hue of the encroaching sunset.

As they crested the final rain-soaked hill, Alianor turned away from Orla, and looked to the end of the muddy trail they had followed all day, just as the towering grey-stone walls of Winterfell came into view. Des whinnied softly and pressed gently onwards, each step bringing him and his mistress closer to the sprawling castle before them.


	3. Welcome Parties

Chapter 2: Welcome Parties

Alianor

I gripped Des' reigns slightly harder as we rode across the drawbridge into Winterfell, the short dark entry-way opening up into a giant courtyard, just within the outermost battlements. The inner ward was filled with people, our welcome party, all dressed in Northern finery and watching us with interest. I saw my father dismount his horse out of the corner of my eye, but I was too busy craning my neck to look around to see what he did next. It was only when my mother loudly cleared her throat (something she berates me about doing, calling it "unladylike," hypocrite), that I actually looked closely at the people waiting for us.

The maids and other servants of the household crowded the smaller doors, windows and shadows to the back of the courtyard, forming a half-ring around the entry to the main castle. The lesser lords and ladies were next, just in front of them, and to the sides of us, forming a secondary layer of rich cloth and fur. The final layer was made up of the Stark's themselves, and their husbands, wives, children and inner circle.

I could pick out Sansa Lannister among them, with her fiery auburn hair and elegant dress, only because I had met her briefly on a visit to Casterly Rock when I was younger. Her husband, Tyrion Lannister, Lord of Casterly Rock since the wars, was by her side. They were visiting as well, but had been here for a month before us, according to the ladies of my father's court. I was distracted again by the goings on around us in the courtyard, watching a blacksmith carry new horse-shoes to the stables to our left.

I was once more wrenched from my daydreaming when Orla tapped my leg with her foot to get my attention. My father had beckoned me forward to meet the Starks, and was now glaring at me, seeing as my lack of concentration meant he'd had to call me twice. Uh-oh.

I tried to dismount Des as quickly as I could, sliding down from the saddle with a lack of grace that wouldn't go unnoticed by my mother.

However, the true problem became apparent once I touched down onto the ground. Or, rather, fell onto the ground. Well, I would have fallen, if one of my father's men hadn't caught me by the waist as my legs buckled under me. Nine hours of almost non-stop riding at an awkward angle and the numbness from earlier was taking its toll. I had all the strength in my legs of a new-born colt.

A slight ripple of laughter shot through the welcome party and our huddle of Dornish women. It was enough to make a noticeable blush burn my cheeks, but the cold Northern air helped in cooling them slightly. Orla dismounted quickly, with apparently no lack of strength in her legs, even though she had ridden side-saddle like me. She came to my side to aid me, but thankfully enough feeling had returned to my legs to keep me upright on my own. Running or walking faster than a small child would be impossible, but the few steps from Des to my father seemed manageable.

_At least the muddy ground is soft enough to break your fall, if you _do_ stumble,_ came the snarky voice at the back of my head, which sounded suspiciously like my eldest sister Isadora. She truly was the perfect lady and constantly despaired over my lack of grace and poise.

I ignored it and slowly took those few steps to my father's side. His glare had disappeared, but his set jaw and intense gaze told me he was still angry with me. _Oh well, how is that any different to normal_, came the voice again. Once more, I ignored it and flashed my father an apologetic smile. His look turned into one of mild disappointment (I was used to that look too,) and turned back to the Starks. I did too this time, and took my chance to take in their presence.

Sansa smiled courteously at me as my eyes flickered to her face, so I smiled back. My gaze then turned to her husband, who nodded at me, an amused look in his eye, no doubt due to my dismount from a few minutes ago. I then turned to the more unfamiliar Starks and their friends.

A tall, almost wild looking woman with unruly dark brown hair curling down to just around her neck was looking at me with vague interest. Her clothing was anything but womanly, with all the colours of the forest blended into her boyish tunic, breeches and hunting boots. Strips of fur and leather straps criss-crossed over her upper torso, probably holding the bow I could see, to her back.

Next to her stood an even taller man, dressed in similar clothing, but the straps and bow were exchanged for a woven cloak, and his clothing was paler in comparison. He looked much less wild than the girl beside him, an air of serenity surrounding him. He was looking at me with an unreadable, steady gaze, which I returned for a moment, before moving my eyes to the left.

My eyes met the large brown ones of the girl standing next to him. She had her hair let loose around her shoulders, but small plaits were woven from her temples to the back of her head, keeping it out of her face. Her clothing was traditional of the North, as far as I could tell, but more masculine than the noble ladies behind her. A leather riding vest over a white tunic, and dark breeches with riding boots hung fitted on her slight frame, whilst her eyes watched my every move with unnerving focus.

I quickly moved on to the man next to her, whose eyes were much warmer and welcoming than the previous woman's. Dressed in a simple dark tunic, breeches, a thick cloak and plain boots, the man looked like he could fit in anywhere, be it a village or a castle.

There were a few more people along the line I would have liked to look at, but a slight murmuring noise to my right brought my attentions away from looking any further, as I realised my father had been speaking, and was now formally introducing me to the welcome party.

"My King, I present to you my youngest daughter, Alianor Dayne."

King? Of course, Bran Stark would obviously be part of the welcome party. I slid my eyes past the next few people I would have looked at to the man seated in the middle of them, almost right in front of me. He was standing in front of a chair with small wheels attached to it, leaning on a finely carved cane. The King of the North, Bran Stark.

He had deep brown eyes, set in a perfectly sculpted face. His features were slightly broader than the vaguely feminine ones of the Southron men I knew, but he was definitely more handsome than any who I had met. His hair was longer than a Southroners too, just reaching the nape of his neck and shoulders, the rich chestnut waves framing his strong jawline. His skin was pale like mine, and looked youthful. Men in Dorne always looked older than they were due to the harsh sun on their skin, but it was obvious men in the North didn't have that problem. His shoulders weren't overly broad, like those of the knights back home. He seemed more lithe and toned, with muscles that weren't intimidating, like the bulky mountains that made up the men of my father's guard.

I curtsied as best I could, my front foot sinking slightly into the wet mud on the ground, and parts of my skirt getting covered in the mud as well. I could feel my mother rolling her eyes internally as I wobbled slightly, but kept my balance and rose. In a strange blur of manners and etiquette, my hand made it to his, was kissed lightly and returned to me.

"My lady, it is a pleasure to meet you. I have heard much about you from my sister." He smiled. I knew he was just being polite, as Sansa could not have had an awful lot to tell him. Regardless, his attempt to make me feel more at ease was much appreciated and brought a genuine smile to my lips.

"And I have heard much about you from…well, just about everyone I've ever met, really, my King. You are highly respected in the South." My words got a small laugh and smile from King Bran and his welcome party, which I hoped would help me later on when my mother would yell at me for being so clumsy beforehand.

His eyes lit up in the loveliest way when he smiled, tiny wrinkles creasing the corner of his eyes as the warm chuckle escaped his lips.

"You are too kind, my lady. But you must be tired from your journey. Come inside, all of you and rest for a while. We will dine later than usual to give you time to recover." He said, the smile still in place.

"Oh, you needn't do that for us, my King. We would not wish to trouble you, after your kind hospitality and warm welcome into your home. We are perfectly fine to dine when it pleases you, my King." My mother cooed.

Gods be damned, speak for yourself, woman! I nearly face-planted the ground a few minutes ago. Let us rest!

Thankfully, King Bran seemed to have a similar thought, as he glanced at me, then back to my mother. He placed a warm smile on his face.

"No, I insist. You must be exhausted, and it isn't any trouble. It would please me to eat later, so I could be assured my guests were well rested and comfortable. I will have your things brought to your rooms, and my servants will escort you to your quarters."

He flicked a wrist to summon up said servants, who quickly went about leading our horses away, unloading the carts and saddle bags attached to them and scurrying away to fulfill their master's commands.

A hand-maid came up to me and mentioned something about following her, but I was too distracted looking at King Bran to pay full attention. Orla had come up behind me once the welcome party had begun to disband and King Bran had led my mother and father away to talk some more.

I realised I had never been told the names of the others in the welcome party, but since no-one else seemed to notice that, I kept quiet and allowed Orla to drag me away, following the young hand-maid to my chambers.

Another small part of me realised that I still had mud caking the lower half of my dress and feet. I hoped that King Bran wouldn't mind me traipsing it through the halls of Winterfell. Oh well. I took one last look around the courtyard, before entering through the giant arched doorway, into Winterfell.

* * *

Authors Note:

Hi, thanks for reading this far! Any reviews or criticisms are much appreciated. If you notice any spelling or grammatical errors I missed, feel free to mention them so I can edit them out. I try to update as often as I can, if anyone is still interested in this story.

DFTBA, my lovely little lemon drops!

XO JNNFR


	4. Hide and Seek

Chapter 3: Hide and Seek

Alianor

So, after what seemed like the longest walk of all time, down one too many corridors, the hand-maid finally stopped at a door at the end of one of them. After a brief explanation on when dinner would be (about an hour and a half), how to summon any assistance needed and various other things I hoped Orla had listened to and would remember, the hand-maid curtseyed deeply (much better than I ever could), and left us. When the door finally shut behind her, I collapsed backwards onto the large bed and groaned in relief. The soft down and comfy bedding was pure heaven after the hard leather saddle. I hoped Des was getting similar treatment in the stables.

"Well, that went well. King Bran seemed quite taken with your elegance and charm." Orla teased, with a smirk in place that told me she thought otherwise.

"Oh, shut up. It's not like I head-butted him when I curtseyed." I replied, not only referring to King Bran, but an unfortunate experience with one of the lords of Martell.

Orla laughed and nodded in assent as she remembered that same experience.

"It took an hour to stop bleeding, and that poor man had to have his nose reset." She chuckled. My previous pout gave in to her teasing and I felt a smile cross my face as a giggle escaped my lips.

"Yeah, I couldn't look anyone in the eye for that entire trip. The next time I met a Martell at some tournament or other, he refused to remove his jousting helmet to greet me." I told her, causing her to laugh outright.

Once we had sobered and the true force of our fatigue hit us, we both decided to get some rest. Orla helped me out of my travelling gown, and we decided it wouldn't make sense to change into a nightgown, only to change again in an hour for dinner. Instead, she helped me into a slightly looser dress, a light teal one, which I could take a nap in quite comfortably until we had to go and dine with the king. Thankfully, Queen Daenerys had brought much more than dragons with her from the Free Cities of the East all those years ago. Their fashions greatly influenced those in Westeros, removing corsets, thick petticoats and the absurdly uncomfortable necklines that my mother had worn when I was a lot younger.

More than a decade later, by the age of nineteen (when a "lady" is apparently meant to care deeply about her what she wore) I had escaped the worst of the old fashions, and enjoyed dresses that were only half as soul-destroying and rib-crushing to wear. Now we could "enjoy" fewer petticoats and no corsets (unless you actually wanted one). The new necklines, so fiddly and ornate, still bothered me, but I suppose I could live.

The Free City-style flowing fabrics, ever present in Southern fashion, would mean certain death in the cold North, so they were thankfully thicker than my ones back home. At least I was in no danger of flashing King Bran and his court if the winds picked up. Their extra weight meant they were less likely to crease as I napped, so I fell asleep with the comforting thought that the most I'd have to suffer before dinner was Orla fixing my Northern style plaits, after sleep had tousled them out of place.

Another small thought swam through my head as I drifted off, which would have disturbed me if I had been awake enough to think harder on it… King Bran is pretty damn handsome.

An hour later…

Orla roused me from my much needed nap what seemed like seconds later. She all but dragged my half-dead body from the bed and into a chair by a giant window in the corner of my chambers. Yanking various combs through my hair, wiping dirt I hadn't known was there from my face with rose water, and all but slicing at me with a dashes of sweet smelling perfume, Orla finally deemed me presentable enough to push out of the door and down the corridors of Winterfell to the Great Hall.

Half an hour early.

She then proceeded to ditch me to go about various chores and unpacking back in our connected chambers. A small servant's door to her small room meant she could "attend" to me whenever I needed her. I just took it as a quick escape route and hiding place should my mother come looking for me in my chambers. She would never think to look in the servant's room. They don't exist to her unless they are answering her every beck and call.

So there I was. Alone and staring around the giant empty hall, marvelling at the high rafters, ornate tapestries and long oaken tables. The table the Stark's (and probably my family too, for our stay), was on a slightly raised platform at the far end of the hall. Large, high windows half way up the walls of the hall let in shafts of light that allowed shards of golden light to illuminate the room before the sun set fully. It seemed the sun set slower in the North, since it had started it's decent as we had arrived, yet it was still bright enough outside. The result was noticeable lines of light, filled with tiny pieces of swirling dust, shining down in diagonal swathes across the Great Hall.

A child-like giggle filled the quiet room. I looked around quickly to find the source of the noise, but saw no-one.

Another giggle soon followed the first.

I looked around again, determined to find my ghost-giggler.

And then I saw two tiny feet sticking out from the bottom of a tapestry to my left.

Gotcha. I thought, a sense of delight reminiscent of times past when I played hide and seek with the baker's children as a child. Before my mother and father found out and made sure I had no time to go out and play. That begins the story of how I learned to play (read as: torture) a harp.

"Hmmm, I wonder what that noise could be! Maybe there are ghosts in Winterfell! Oh my! I must tell King Bran at once. Or maybe there are goblins living in the roof of the Great Hall!" I exclaimed, with all the theatrical drama I could summon. Strangely enough, I sounded scarily like my second eldest sister, Tyana. Oh well.

The giggle came a third time. I tiptoed as quietly as I could closer to the tapestry. Whilst I wasn't the most graceful of girls, I could be pretty light-footed, almost sneaky when the occasion called for it. Sadly, I could never figure how to transfer that talent into something like dancing. Again, oh well.

I paused less than a hand away from the tapestry that housed my little spy. As expected, another badly concealed giggle erupted from behind the finely woven fabric a second later. I reached to the edge of the tapestry, caught it between my fingers gently, so as not to give away my position with any rustling… WHOOSH!

I pulled the tapestry aside quicker than a cat could swipe its paw. A screech of surprise and joy came from the little girl I had uncovered.

"RAWR!" I yelled, grinning maniacally as she laughed aloud and tried to run away. I caught her around the middle, picked her up and swung her around a half turn, placing her onto the table behind us.

She collapsed onto the table, still laughing, curling up into a little ball as I tickled her sides.

"So, who are you?" I asked as I tickled. She didn't respond immediately. Understandable, since the relentless attack on my half had yet to cease. I paused briefly to allow her time to reply.

"Liana Stark. But you can call me Anna, like my mama does." The little girl finally blurted out, her tiny cheeks red from exertion and aftershocks of laughter bubbling through her every couple of seconds. "What's your name?" She enquired.

"I'm Alianor Dayne, but you can call me Ally, if you want." I answered, smiling at her.

"Are you the lady from the courtyard? The one who nearly fell over a lot?" She asked.

"U-huh, that's me!" I replied with my own laugh and a type of enthusiasm I reserve solely for children. They have usually done nothing to annoy me, and they are as rubbish as keeping up airs and graces as I am, half the time. I identify with them more than I do the grown-ups I encounter, most of the time too.

"You were very funny when you were getting of the horse. You looked like a baby deer, all stumble-y and confused." She noted, a child-like seriousness coming across her face, as if she were telling me the most important observation any person could make concerning me.

"Well spotted. To be fair, I had been riding Des for ages, and the ground was all slippy and wet! You try curtsying when your foot sinks every time you bend forward." I offered in mock defence. She nodded slowly, taking in this information.

"Who's Des?" Anna asked me.

"He's my horse. I named him after the type of horse he is, a Destrier."

"I see. I think you falling over is okay then. I'm not very good at curtsying either. My auntie says it looks like I'm trying to bang my head into my knee as fast as I can." She said, looking slightly disgruntled.

"My mother used to say something similar. I seem to recall her telling me Des looked more elegant when he whinnied than when I tried to curtsey." I told her. This brought a grin to her face.

"How are you when you dance? I always step on people's feet when I have to practise dancing with a partner." She explained to me, excitedly.

"Same here! I once had to dance at a banquet the High Queen held in King's Landing, and I stood on my partners' toes so many times, I spent half of the banquet seated whilst the others tried to pluck up enough courage to ask me. They heard from the knights I had danced with the pain I would be inflicting upon them." I said, a look of exaggerated despair on my face. A wicked look came across my face soon after as I leaned in and told her in a staged whisper…

"Not that I tried to stop stepping on their feet either. I don't like dancing as much as they don't like limping away after a foray with me around the dance floor."

Anna's now familiar giggle filled my ears again, and she scooted a little bit closer to me on the table, which I was now sitting on too.

"I do the same thing when my septa tries to make me sew. I mess up on purpose so that she has to spend ages unpicking my stiches so I can try again. She always gives up after a while and I spend most of the time spooling the thread for her. That way, we both win." She proclaimed proudly.

"Gosh, I wish I had thought of that when I was learning to sew. I just spent hours stabbing myself silly with the needle. My fingers were always bruised and bleeding after every lesson. My mother only let me stop trying to sew when I got blood on a white silken dress from the Free Cities. She went completely mad for days at me over that." I shuddered dramatically. Anna nodded in sympathy.

"My mama isn't as bad as that. It's my auntie that makes me learn how to sew. My mama is teaching me how to sword fight next year. She says I'm still a bit too little to learn now, but when I can hold up her old practise sword. I can't do that yet, but I'm still trying." She told me. Looking at her tiny, skinny arms, I could see how her mother's entry trial was a valid one. Whoever she was, I admired Anna's mother. I wished my mother had allowed me to learn sword fighting, not forced me to learn in secret, on my own.

Then two things became apparent to me at once.

The first: Anna's mother was most likely Arya Stark, the most famed swords-women in all the Seven Kingdoms. I silently berated myself on not having figured that out quicker somehow. The auntie she mentioned must have been Lady Sansa.

The second and most unnerving: We had been being watched the entire time we had been speaking. This only became apparent when a beautiful, deep voice came from behind us to say;

"You had better keep practising, Anna. I could hardly lift a practise sword till I was seven. And mine wasn't much heavier than your mother's, little one."

We both spun around on the table to face the new-comer.

"UNCLE BRAN!" Anna yelled, jumping to her feet, still on the table. She then ran the width of it and jumped into King Bran's arms, wrapping her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck. He stumbled a step, under her force of impact, but regained his balance, dropping his cane and wrapping his arms around her to return her hug.

"Whoa! That's a welcome and a half. Did you really miss me that much in an hour? I've only been speaking with Lady Alianor's family for a little while. You and Eddy had me the entire day before that. Or did you forget?" King Bran spoke softly to Anna, moving her from her position of hanging like a strange necklace on his front, to a seemingly more comfortable position on his hip. Anna became slightly bashful at his gentle goading and hid her face in his neck, mumbling an explanation for her attack that I didn't quite catch. Bran replied with an "I see," and a smile. That part of their conversation ended, as Anna then remembered me and turned to me, excitement back in her eyes.

"Uncle Bran, I made a new friend! This is Ally, you met already in the courtyard, but you didn't speak properly, so you don't know her like I do!" She beamed. Her subtle, child-like way of staking her claim of me at the end wasn't missed my King Bran and I, with King Bran replying;

"Oh really? How do you know I haven't already spoken with Lady Alianor and we aren't closer friends than you and the little Lady Aselyna?" He tickled her a little, causing her to shake and twist in his arms, making a little psh-ing noise with her mouth as she tried not to laugh.

"Because you've been talking to her mama and papa for ages. You said so yourself. She's been with me for ages instead! And you can't get to know someone properly by raven and letters. And she hasn't been to Winterfell in at least as old as I am, so there!" Her child-like methodology was sound. King Bran had lost. He nodded, the same thought crossing his mind as well.

"You're right. Lady Alianor has never been to Winterfell before, and letters are no good. She can be your friend, I suppose." A fake-sad look crossed his handsome face, a childish pout on his perfect mouth as he hung his head in mock dejection. Anna looked horrified that she had made her Uncle upset and grabbed his face, tilting it back up.

"No, you can be her friend too, Uncle Bran! Right, Ally?!" She cried desperately, looking at me with wide, expectant eyes, hoping for an agreement that would make her uncle happy again. I nodded and said;

"Of course he can, if that is your wish. And his wish too." I replied, trying not to laugh.

A comical look of joy spread across King Bran's face, followed by a mirrored look of joy on Anna's face. King Bran moved his hands to Anna's waist and swung her around in the air, yelling with happiness. Anna's adorable bell-like giggle chimed out yet again.

I watched them for a moment, until King Bran placed her back on the ground.

"Okay, Auntie Sansa was looking for you before all this, Anna. She wants to re-braid your hair or something, I've forgotten what exactly, but you had best hurry. She's in your chambers." King Bran told her. Anna nodded resignedly, not exactly happy that the fun had ended and what awaited her in the near future. I could sympathise. She looked up at me, walked over and flung her arms around my legs, bunching my dress' skirts into my knees as she squeezed.

"Bye, Ally. Are you going to be sitting with us at dinner?" She asked.

King Bran bent down and retrieved his fallen cane, and answered before I could.

"Lady Alianor will be sitting with me, at the adult table. You have to sit at the children's table and help Osha look after baby William. But don't worry, you'll get to talk to her after we have eaten and everyone is dancing. I'll make sure of it." He assured Anna. She mumbled an okay, waved goodbye to me with a bright smile back on her face, then ran out of the room to go to see Lady Sansa.

King Bran turned to me to speak, but before he a single word could come out of his mouth; a high-pitched squeak of delight came from behind us.

"Oh my, King Bran! How lovely it is to see you again!" My mother gushed. I rolled my eyes and deflated a little. I hadn't expected to have to deal with her this soon, though I supposed dinner was meant to start around now. Servants began scurrying through the Great Hall, carrying trays, cutlery and various pieces of cloth and decorative pieces for the tables. Lords and ladies began hovering around the entrance ways, as the hall came to life in what seemed like a matter of seconds.

I unfortunately caught my mother's eyes as I scanned the room, and the sharp glare she threw me reminded me that she had noticed I was already at dinner, un-escorted and alone with the King. She wouldn't have liked any of those on their own, never mind altogether. She was most likely terrified I had insulted the King, with my lack of social grace and complete inability to make small talk with any person of nobility. I looked away quickly, and stared at the floor, the safest option.

"Ah, Lady Maudeleyn! A pleasure to see you once more. You are better rested now, than before, I hope?" King Bran addressed my mother, his cane in hand, back straight, and all the playful warmth from a moment ago was gone, replaced with a regality that juxtaposed his former manner in an almost jarring way.

It fascinated me how quickly he could change from a carefree young man, to this confident host. What fascinated me more was why he had shown me that carefree side. He hadn't known me more than an hour. Surely he would have waited at least a few days before he felt anywhere near relaxed enough to let someone outside of his family see that kind of behaviour. Not that I was complaining. It was lovely to watch him with Anna. He seemed more…natural with her, than he did now, talking with my mother.

Probably wondering why I was staring at him, with a confused (and most likely, slightly admiring) look in my eyes. I shook myself from my thoughts and joined their conversation as they turned to look expectantly at me. Oh gods, what was I meant to say…

"I was just telling your mother how you helped me find Lady Liana, after I had escorted you to the Great Hall. I also apologised for bringing you too early, so you had to wait." King Bran informed me, a look in his eye telling me to play along. The glare from before was gone from my mother's eyes, replaced with one of…approval? It was a new look for me, so I wasn't entirely sure what it was. I had seen her give similar ones to my other sisters, but now it was directed at me, I was slightly un-nerved by it.

"Y-yes. I was just speaking with King Bran about our journey from Dorne. He was troubled to hear about the harsh weather we encountered on our last few days of riding." I fumbled for words. King Bran smiled even wider at me, the conspiratorial look even brighter in his eyes.

"Yes, I was so sorry to hear about that. The North can be quite unforgiving at times." He carried my lie for me.

"Oh, my King, you are much too kind! It was not so bad as that! A little light rain and wind here and there! My daughter is imaginative at times. Convinced everything is much more extraordinary than it is. Why, only the other day I heard her telling one of the ladies of our court that the wind blowing through the trees sounded like the whispers of Centaurs as they tended the forests. Centaurs!" My oh so loving mother joked at my expense. I flushed a deep red and turned my face away from King Bran. My mother constantly tried to make me look like a child in front of other people. I think she enjoyed the power trip, since she lost a lot of control over me when I stopped being an actual child. The second I could unlock the door to my chambers from the inside, I was free from her complete control.

From the corner of my eye I saw King Bran smile and turn to me.

"Centaurs, my lady? Do you take the old myths for truths?" His tone wasn't mocking, only curious.

"I believe in many things, my King. They are all real. Whether they exist is another matter. I find that myths are not stories that should be dismissed. They tell us what our ancestors believed in turn, and what they held sacred. Centaurs cared for the forests. They respected nature and did not try to fight it, as we do. Our ancestors either knew of centaurs, or made them up, to teach people that nature was a part of every person, be it only half of you, as the Centaur was half horse. If everyone believed in Centaurs, would the land off the King's Road, near Moat Cailin be as barren and scarred, from cutting down too many trees and taking rocks from the hills there? The forests there are so small. That close to water, it could be prosperous farm or wood land, yet it is dead. All because Nature was fought back, not cared for." I replied, doing my best to make sure King Bran didn't think I was the ditsy, childish court-lady my mother was trying to portray me as.

A look of surprise and delight came upon King Bran's face as he listened to me speaking, but he never got a chance to reply, as my mother made an indignant noise and somehow excused me from the conversation and into the domineering presence of my father and other dignitaries nearby, as they readied themselves to be seated.

I could hear mother apologising profusely to King Bran for my supposed "impertinence", but (whilst I couldn't hear his reply), when I turned to see him, he was staring right at me, a look of fascination on his face.

I spent the next few minutes avoiding small talk with the ladies who swanned by me, surrounded by potent clouds of sickening perfume. Finally, dinner was served, and everyone took their seats. I made my way to the main table on the platform, nodding discreetly at an Anna, who was almost jumping out of her chair and waving like a mad woman, before an ageing lady with wild brown-grey hair pulled her down and appeared to remonstrate her.

Anna never stopped smiling, though, and I finished making my way to the large table where I'd be eating that evening. I sat down at my chair, between Lady Sansa and the wild-looking hunts-woman from the courtyard, and prepared myself for whatever surprises came along with the first course.

* * *

I am very sorry it has been so many days since I last uploaded a chapter. I'm writing this as I go along, and I've been on away (no wifi in the "away" place, sorry), and haven't been able to write. I hope this tides you over until I get into a wifi zone again soon. Again, any pointing-out-of-typos, reviews, comments, criticisms and general chit-chat/questions are all welcome, and I hope you like the story so far. :) (I also apologise if anybody seems OOC, just point out how, where and why they are, and I'll see what can be done, if anything can). :D

XO and DFTBA

Jennifer


	5. Feasts and Fire Lakes

Chapter 4: Feasts and Fire Lakes

Alianor

A few minutes after I had sat down, I found out the wild-woman was in fact Lady Meera Reed, a close friend of King Bran and the brother of his advisor, Lord Jojen Reed (the less-wild looking man who had stood beside her during our welcome, I also learned). Lady Sansa was a kind and regal as I had remembered her from the brief time I had met her, but she seemed infinitely more relaxed here at Winterfell. She smiled more often, and kept up our conversations easily, much to my relief. Her small talk wasn't as tiresome as the sort I had to make with my own courtiers; I could even go as far to say it was interesting.

Lady Meera, or "just Meera," as she told me, was my preferred conversation partner (Lady Sansa wouldn't have noticed this, since she was busy talking with her husband after the first course of food. I thought it impolite to listen in, so I don't know what they were so deep in discussion over). She told me about her job as commander of King Bran's huntsmen and guards. Apparently, King Bran enjoyed horse-riding and archery, but rarely had time to indulge in these pass-times, so he had recruited Meera and a few select men to be the official King's Hunters. They would regularly go out and hunt their own game, with the King joining them when he could.

Due to the times of peace we were in, guards were not needed as much, but Winterfell was still an important seat, so it had quite a substantial guard-force (a statement I believed, from what I had seen so far. Many guards had been present at out welcome, and were currently guarding the doors to the Great Hall). Meera informed me during the feast, in enthusiastic detail, of the rigorous training every guard went through, including the input concerning training with swords from Lady Arya (who Meera kindly pointed out as being seated near the other end of our long table). The Guards of Winterfell were well known for being some of the best swordsmen outside of Braavos, so I was keen to hear more.

However, a sudden lull in the noise in the Great Hall halted any further conversation with Meera. A quick questioning look to Lady Sansa led to her telling me that King Bran would be announcing the evening's entertainment, the music, which was about to begin playing and people would be dancing soon.

I felt myself visibly pale, even though I knew dancing would undoubtedly be an eventuality of the evening. Still, that didn't mean I actually wanted to dance.

But as a guest, I would almost certainly be expected to. Everybody rose, and as melodies came from the musicians in the corner of the Great Hall, servants pushed back the long tables and lesser lords and ladies began to dance. I made my way down from the platform as slowly as possible, noting that my mother and father were already dancing, which meant I might have some time before I would be forced to dance by them.

I sat down as far away as I could, doing my best to blend into the background, hoping no knight or lord would ask me to dance. I felt Orla sit down beside me, slightly hidden as well, and we both watched the couple dance in comfortable silence for some time.

That was, until a loud yell of…

"ALLY!" Resounded around the Great Hall and a small flash of red dress shot across the dance-floor, and onto my lap. Anna kneeled there, her tiny, bony knees digging into my lower stomach as she threw her arms around my neck. I realised her earlier energetic greeting with King Bran was more customary than I had thought. I hugged her back.

"Hello Anna! Are you enjoying the feast?" I asked her, moving her into a more comfortable position sitting sideways on my lap, her feet resting on the long bench I was sitting on. Her little arms unwound form their vice-like grip on my neck and she put her head down into the crook of my neck, as if she were tired, and then nodded.

"Uhuh, there was lots of food. And lemon cakes! Auntie Sansa made sure they served lemon cakes, 'because we both eat lots of them. Auntie Sansa always gets some when there are feasts and hides them to give to us later, 'cause we're usually not allowed to come to feasts. This time we were allowed to come, but we have to go to bed soon. But I'm not meant to tell people about the lemon cake stuff with Auntie Sansa, so you have to keep it a secret, okay?" She whispered to me, pushing herself away to look into my eyes, her little face so serious I almost laughed. I didn't. Instead, I nodded. I glanced at Lady Sansa, who was talking with King Bran at that moment.

"I promise." I said, looking Anna in the face. She smiled and returned to her head to rest on my collar bone and inner-shoulder.

I glanced up to see if my mother and father were still dancing (and to see if I needed to adjust my discreet hiding place accordingly), only to be met with the surprised eyes of most of the guests in the Great Hall. I realised that Anna's yell, jump into my arms and current seating arrangement didn't make either of us seem very composed and lady-like, and was beyond informal. Not that I cared about that stuff, but if the vein popping out of my mother's forehead as she seemingly tried to incinerate me on the spot with only her eyes told me anything, it was that nearly everybody else felt differently.

Everybody, but King Bran. He was walking over to us, cane in hand.

"Anna, what did I say about Osha needing help with William?" He looked over to where the older woman who had been sitting with Anna before the feast was; holding a fussing baby who I guessed was William. Anna's mouth formed a tiny o and she leapt from my lap, rushing over to them. She stopped half-way through the dance-floor, stepping on the skirts of the ladies around her, and turning to wave to me.

"Bye bye Ally! I'll talk to you later, I have to help Osha with William 'cause he's crying. He likes it when I hold him." Her blunt, child-like explanation made me laugh a little, and I waved back.

"Alright! Goodbye! And good luck!" I called back. She nodded and turned away, finishing her sprint across the dance-floor, just missing getting collared by a tall man who was standing next to Lady Arya on the other side of the Hall.

She was laughing at her daughter's antics and patted the shoulder of the man, who looked to her, sighed and laughed as well. Lady Arya looked to me then, a strange smile on her face. She nodded deeply to me, and then twitched her head to the left.

It took me a moment to understand what she was doing, before I realised she was signalling me to look to my right. I looked, and saw King Bran sitting next to me, looking right at me. I jerked back a little in surprise, not due to his proximity, just because I thought Orla had been sitting there, and the change in person confused me for a second. I spotted Orla a few feet away, saw her stick her tongue out at me quickly, wink, and then leave to talk to the other hand-maids at the edge of the Hall. I fought the urge to role my eyes at her, and moved my attention to King Bran. I just stared. I didn't know what to say.

I felt the people begin dancing again, and they stopped paying attention to me, for the most part. I'm sure whispers would fly throughout the rest of the night, but one great thing about nobility is that they have short memories. Give it a day; no-one will care what happened at this feast.

Back to staring at King Bran.

King Bran spoke first.

"You are unlike other ladies, my lady." He said, a searching look in his eyes. I had no clue what he was searching for, so I just stared back at him some more, hoping that didn't make me seem rude.

"Thank you, my King." I replied. I didn't know how else to reply to him, so I figured thanking him for telling me I wasn't like the majority of ladies who were bird-brained and shallow was a decent enough response. At least, that's how I took what he said. He could have meant I looked like a boy, and therefore looked more like other lords, than other ladies. But somehow, I don't think that's what he meant. Hopefully.

"I mean no offense," **Oh good, not a boy then. **"I only mean, the way you treat Anna. You have only known her a few hours, and yet you treat her like I have after five years of knowing her. Can you really be so…?" A strange question and it didn't seem as though he was talking to me, or that I should answer (or could, since he hadn't finished the sentence… Can I be so what?). It felt like he was thinking out loud. He shook his head and the searching look was gone.

"My apologies, Lady Alianor. I was thinking aloud," **I was right, ha! **"I would ask you to dance, but I'm afraid I can't. I would use this cane as my excuse, but I think I would do you a dishonour to lie. I simply hate dancing, and by the fact that you are trying to hide from the gaze of the other guests, I think you feel the same." He smiled at me, tapping the floor gently with his cane as he spoke. **My gods, can you be any more wonderful, King Bran? **I thought, thankful he wasn't going to make me make a fool of myself. I must have visibly relaxed, because his smile grew exponentially, into a full blown grin.

"You know, one of the upsides to being a King, is that everybody is so caught up in being polite around you, they hardly ever interrupt your conversations. I say hardly, as your mother seems to …well…" He trailed off, probably thinking he was about to insult me. Ha!

"…be nosy, controlling, sickeningly simpering skrog? Hadn't noticed." I finished for him, a wry smile on my own lips. Then I froze, the small part of me that remembered my lessons on decorum screaming at me for, yet again, being too informal with someone of nobility. Even though I don't think Anna would enjoy me thinking of her as nobility. I know I wouldn't appreciate myself, but it can't be helped. And it didn't mean I planned to stop being nice to her, she was adorable. I wasn't going to be the one to make her grow up too soon and become some poised and pampered ninny. Even if it meant I'd have to get a few bruises every time I met her. The child had really bony knees.

A bark of laughter came from King Bran, his eyes widening in surprise at my little outburst.

"I would hesitate to put it so bluntly myself, but she is rather…forward, I suppose." He conceded. "And skrog?" He asked, a confused look in place.

"I made it up. I couldn't think of a term that fit her, and wouldn't be too insulting. So I made one up. You can apply what you think is an appropriate degree of insult behind it, whereas I have deniability and can say that it means nothing. The perfect insult." I explained, a small shrug following soon after. King Bran let out another laugh.

"I see! I'll have to use that technique some time. Sansa is forever winning our fights because I can't bring myself to truly insult her." He said. I let out my own laugh at that.

"Feel free! But back to what you were saying earlier, what does your courtiers' lack of courage in interrupting your conversations mean?" I asked.

"It means that I can talk to you for a fair while, save us both from having to dance with other people, escape boring conversations with everybody else, and get to know each other better so your stay does not feel quite so awkward for you. You fascinate me, Lady Alianor." King Bran said, looking into my eyes. I couldn't hold his gaze, so I did what I always do when I feel awkward (which is often). I blushed and hid behind my hair as much as I could.

This was impossible, however, since Orla had scraped all of mine back, away from my face?

I hoped the blush just looked like I was a little hot and flushed from the wine and candles that had been served and were surrounding us.

"Thank you, my King. You are fairly interesting too." I replied, doing my best not to sound like a grovelling leech like my mother did every time she complimented someone of higher social standing.

"'_Fairly interesting!'_ Such high praises, Lady Alianor! You flatter me too much." King Bran joked, obviously picking up on my careful compliment. It was slightly scary how quickly he figured out little things about me. I laughed a little and opted to look at a broche near King Bran's collar, doing my best not to give anything else away. I was already certain he thought I was a bit silly, no matter how fascinating I was. I mean, I _was _silly, but I didn't want him to know that just yet. Not sure why I didn't, I just didn't.

"But wait, what about my mother? She won't be dancing for the entire night. I can assure you she will be up and over here the second she finishes doing her rounds with the other lords and ladies. Which will be any second now." I said, looking at my mother, who had just finished talking to some lady or other, and was coming straight for us. Only to be intercepted by Lady Sansa.

"Don't worry. I convinced my sister to keep your mother occupied as long as you wanted. She is the Queen of Small Talk, so you could have all evening if you wished." King Bran told me. I looked at him in surprise. He really wanted to talk to me, it seemed. I had sort of gathered that, from the conversation we had been having for the past few minutes, but now he was literally recruiting people to help him prolong our conversations.

Something in my chest seemed to jump a little when I thought about that. It felt sort of nice. In a weird, chest-jumpy way.

"I doubt your other guests would appreciate it if I kept you to myself all evening." I answered, looking at the lords and ladies currently eyeing us, no doubt waiting to pounce on King Bran and I, the second we separated. King Bran followed my gaze to them, and a slight frown creased his brow. It was gone in an instant.

"Well, how about we go for a short walk, then? I can claim to have something to show you, as a new guest of Winterfell, and then we can talk in private, with no fear of prying eyes and ears." He offered. Okay, he really really must want to talk with me.

He must have known what I was thinking.

"I must seem quite forward myself, going on like this. It's only because… the only other people I've met who say anything new were either near me at the table we were seated at this evening, or at the children's table. But I have spoken to you for less than an hour since you arrived, and already you have said more 'new things' to me in that time than they have in a week. I want to see how many more you can say if I gave you the time to do so." He explained himself quite clearly. I nodded slowly and rose from the bench. King Bran rose as well.

"Well, in that case, I would be delighted to go for a walk with you, King Bran."

And walk we did. Right out of the Great Hall, with Orla and one of King Bran's serving boys whom Orla grabbed and half-dragged into following us (which meant we were not technically alone, so this wasn't improper! Gods, I love you, Orla).

Since it was dark outside, we kept our walk to the echoing hallways of Winterfell, the torches that littered the walls creating long pools of light that melded into one another. The flames made the pools dance on the cold stone walls, like the edges of lakes, ebbing and flowing gently. We walked in silence until we were far enough away from the Great Hall that the chatter and music was only faint, before we started talking. Orla and the serving boy were far back as well, holding their own hushed conversation and ignoring ours entirely. Again, Orla's doing, I bet.

"So, what are you thinking right now my lady?" King Bran asked.

"I'm thinking that your walls look like lakes of fire in the torchlight." I answered truthfully. Mainly because I was a terrible liar, and also because I can usually only think about one thing at a time once I am distracted.

"I see. And why is that?" King Bran pressed on.

"Because you used such darkly coloured bricks when you rebuilt Winterfell, and since it is so dark in the North once the sun goes down, the light fights against the shadows and the flames move constantly. This makes it look like the edges are flickering, mirroring the flames of the torches. It's where their battles take place and they push and pull; back and forth, like the waves of a lake would do. Therefore, fire lake walls." I felt like I was babbling.

Apparently, King Bran didn't mind, as he looked at the walls (and I looked at him). The fire was dancing in his eyes as he seemed to think about what I had just said. A grin grew onto his face, and he cocked his head to the side slightly.

"So it does." He exclaimed softly, so his words wouldn't echo down the hall to badly. He continued to watch the walls for few more seconds, before turning back to me.

"You are quite observant, Lady Alianor. And you have a wonderful way with words. You already showed that earlier, when you told me about Centaurs." He said.

"Hardly, I'm just easily distracted. My mother says, if I paid attention, I'd be deadly. Apparently, I could talk my way into anything, but I'd forget why I wanted to be there once I did. I didn't see how that could be such a bad thing until I really thought about it. Then I supposed that _would_ be a bad thing, should I ever get kidnapped. Following that theory, I would talk my way outside of my prison, only to forget why I wanted to escape. _That _would be problem, I think." I told him. He threw his head back slightly and let out a deep laugh that made the ones back in the Great Hall pale in comparison.

"You have the strangest form of modesty I have ever encountered, my lady, I'll give you that."

"Thank you, my King." I wasn't sure how else to respond. It was a lovely, if slightly peculiar compliment. But one I'd take, anyhow. Beggars can't be choosers, as Orla would say.

I wished I could think up a good question to ask King Bran, but my brain seemed to enjoy torturing me by providing nothing worthy of use. Asking his favourite colour was the main contender, if I needed to give an example of its failure.

My lack of questioning didn't seem to even register with King Bran, as he seemed to have an abundance of them for me. We spoke about what I thought of Winterfell so far (which led to a little conversation about Anna, including some stories about her mischievous escapades). I told him about our journey from Starfall (the proper version, not the "my mother is watching, better not give an actual opinion," one), and what I thought of the places and things I had seen. After laughing and talking for a fair amount of time, guilt got to the both of us and we returned to the Great Hall so King Bran could mingle with his guests, and I could avoid dancing as much as possible once more.

Funnily enough, however, yet another Stark came and rescued me from the clutches of some Dornish harpies. Arya Stark politely excused me from the mind-numbing talk of some Winterfell knights and pulled me away gently to some benches by the walls of the Great Hall.

"Hello, Lady Alianor. It's a pleasure to finally meet you properly. Before you start, call me Arya." She smiled warmly at me. Like her brother, Arya had a knack for putting people at ease.

"Hello, Arya. It's wonderful to finally meet you too. Just Alianor is fine too." I replied, slightly unsure exactly why she wanted to speak with me. She seemed to have more purpose in her voice than you would associate with "small talk." I was right, as it turns out.

"I saw that you've been getting along well with my daughter, Anna. She doesn't take kindly to people who are stuck up, boring or false. And she seems to absolutely love you, so far. She's been almost like my own little tester since she could talk, to see what's what with any guests at Winterfell. And since she's decided you're alright, I'm going to assume so too, so I'm actually going to try to get to know you. I don't usually try with most guests, since they're gone so quickly, and would just as soon scheme behind your back as they would smile to your face. You're the first person Anna has spoken to voluntarily in two years, never mind hug and jump on, so you must be something pretty special. My brother seems to think so too, with the amount of interest he's taken in you. He takes the same stance I do, and takes Anna's opinion just as seriously." I saw immediately where Anna got her blunt method of explaining things from.

It was refreshing, to say the least. Three out of the four Starks I had met so far didn't mince their words. Lady Sansa seemed to be something of a rarity in her family, and even then, she never appeared false like the other ladies I knew. I was liking the Starks more and more, the more I spent with them. I looked around to find King Bran, only to find him trapped by my mother and father, doing his best to speak with them, and still pay attention to other people. Poor guy. My eyes flicked back to Arya, realising I hadn't responded to her yet.

"I…Thank you, I guess. Anna is an incredibly sweet child." I replied, still slightly stunned from Arya's speech. She grinned at me and settled onto the bench more comfortably, her back against the wall behind us.

"Yes, she is. She told me about your horse, Des, was it? And your shared problems with curtsying. She seems to think the world of you. The entire time Sansa was braiding her hair, all we heard was Ally this and Ally that. It would be annoying, if it weren't so adorable." Arya grinned at me, as if we had been friends for years. I returned it, strangely easily.

"I was told about your little condition for her to learn sword-fighting. Picking up a practise sword at that age _will_ be pretty hard." I observed, remembering how hard it had been to use an old one back home when I was teaching myself to fight.

"You've picked up a practise sword?" Arya enquired, a very curious look seeping into her wide green eyes. I realised what I had just implied.

"Oh, I…Well, yes. A few times. I sometimes…um… helped the knights back home…uh…you know, held their swords for them whilst they trained and stuff." _Smooth_, came the voice in my head. **Bad at lying, remember? ** I snapped back. Arya raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying my flimsy story, but she didn't pry. My painfully obvious lie didn't seem to bother her. She said as much.

"You really should work on lying. I know whatever your actual reasons for knowing the weight of a practise sword can't be all that sinister, but should you have a secret you truly need to keep, you'll need to be able to make up decent stories to help you. But, as far as lying to me goes, your obvious lack of skill helps you. I don't like liars, and you are clearly not one. Not when you're that bad at it." She laughed. I laughed uneasily, not entirely panicked at being caught out, but not entirely relieved that Arya was okay with it. I didn't want her figuring out anything to do with my little hobbies from back home.

Arya was called away soon after by the man who tried to grab at Anna earlier, whom she told me was Gendry, her husband and Anna and baby William's father. Apparently he was the King's Armourer. He had made the impressive armour of the Guards of Winterfell, and was, according to Arya, one of the most sought after armourers in Westeros because of it. I wondered if I would have known any of this if I ever listened to my mother and her ladies gossip, or was allowed to explore the world outside the relative isolation of my home in Starfall more often.

I remained seated on that bench for a while longer, before being asked (forced) to dance by a random knight, who's name I can't remember. He was one of my father's men, I think. I remember a purple cloak, so I'm guessing so. After standing on his feet one too many times, I was relinquished back onto the smooth wood of my friend, the bench, till the end of the evening. No-one else tried to dance with me, and I didn't bother figuring out why. Finally, Orla was allowed to come over and escort me back to my room, and I just about remember her un-braiding my hair, helping me undress and re-dress into a nightgown, and climb into bed. I was out before she could even snuff my bedside candle.

* * *

Author's Note: Hello, People of the Universe! Congrats on reading this far. I hope you've enjoyed my ramblings. Any critiques, corrections or general chit-chat is welcome in the comments/reviews thingy-muh-jigg. So yeash. Thank you so much to anyone who has read, reviewed or just plain ol' viewed. You all make my day every time you do. :D I will try and update more often, since I'm going to be home and on holiday for the next few weeks. I already have some stuff started, so there will hopefully be a new chapter in a few more days.**

Thanks again,

XO and DFTBA

Jennifer

*Unforeseeable travesties, like my laptop suddenly falling through a rift in time and space, might hinder this, of course, but touch wood.


	6. Eyes On the Forest, Not On the Trees

Chapter 5: Eyes On the Forest, Not On the Trees

Alianor

A loud knocking on my door dragged me from a dreamless sleep, and I lurched from my bed in a daze. I heard a rustling coming from Orla's room, which was connected to mine by a servant's door, but I just stumbled, half-dead with sleep, to the door and opened it.

"What d'ya wan'?" I mumbled, trying to wipe the sleep out of my eyes. I had yet to actually focus them and see who stood before me. My lovely brain had yet to remind me that this was the real world. When my eyes and brain finally connected, I froze.

There before me stood a very amused looking King Bran, a faintly disbelieving, questioning look in his eyes, a full blown grin tugging at his perfect mouth, which was slightly a-jar, no doubt about to answer my previous question.

The circumstances of our current meeting hit me just as I felt Orla came up behind me. Hair? Messy and falling out of my plaits. Nightgown? Slightly twisted, slipping to expose just a bit of my shoulder (enough to scandalise my mother, but nothing too bad was showing, thank gods). Feet? Bare. Not noticeable under the long gown, but_ I_ knew, and it left me feeling even more exposed in front of the King. Plus, the floor was freezing.

"My lady, I apologise, I see you are not quite ready. Your mother told me you would be up and ready by now. It appears she was misinformed." King Bran managed to get out, his eyes darting quickly up and down, taking in the state of my current attire.

"I…uhm…I just woke up. I…uh…well, you see…" I tried to say something to explain why I looked like I had just rolled out of bed (which I had, but… you know…). I could have said that, but you try remembering real words when an annoyingly handsome king, only a couple years older than you, is standing less than half an arm away from you. Then throw in the fact that he's staring into your eyes with his (which strangely enough, your mind decides to note are a more hazel than brown, as you had first assumed). A lovely…golden hazel…

"What my lady is trying to say, my king, is that she thought you were the maid-servant, Hanna, who showed us to our room yesterday. She said she would be back in the morning to bring rose-water for my lady to wash her face, but you have arrived before her. I was trying to find some perfumes my lady brought with her when you knocked. I believe she quite forgot she was not yet ready, and opened the door whilst I was in the other room." Orla explained for me, since I was just standing there, mouth opening and closing like a fish, as I stared at the King. I snapped out of my haze, but was still unable to look away from King Bran. His eyes never left mine as he spoke.

"I see, my deepest apologies again, my lady. I can return when you are ready, if you wish." His tone implied he didn't quite believe us, but was being charitable and playing along with Orla's story. My cheeks were burning hotter than they had in the courtyard earlier, and the relative warmth of the air inside the castle meant they weren't going anywhere quickly. A subtle poke in the ribs from Orla seemed to push words out of my mouth.

"Whatever you wish, my King. I apologise for…well. I apologise." I finished lamely. _You truly have a silver tongue and quick mind, don't you? You look stunning, by the way. Nice dress…_ The snarky voice goaded, in my head. **Oh, shut up.** **I just woke up. It's not like I'm half dressed, the nightgown isn't that thin. **I replied. _Bet he would have liked that_, the voice replied. **What's that supposed to mean?** I thought back, slightly confused at my own brain's thoughts. It didn't respond, so I returned to the increasingly awkward (well, on my half, at least) conversation with King Bran.

"It's quite alright, my lady. It is my fault for not enquiring further if you were truly ready yet or not. Sansa has repeatedly berated me for being too hasty in my actions. I suppose I just could not wait to speak to you at breakfast." He smiled, his eyes taking on a peculiar glint.

I remembered a similar glint in the eyes of my old wet nurses little son, when I helped him place worms in his sister's doll-chest. Mischief, the sparkle said. Though what he was doing to be mischievous, exactly, I couldn't place my finger on.

I felt Orla placing a cloak around my shoulders, fleetingly noting the familiar warmth of the fabric as it blocked a draft I hadn't realised was there.

"You wished to speak with me, my King?" I asked, that part of his response catching my attention the most.

"No, well, yes. I meant that I wanted to speak with you and your family at breakfast, but I was wondering if you care to join me on a ride this morning. I mean, you may still be tired from your journey, but it is a nice day out and…" It was King Bran's turn to struggle for words. A faint pinkness filled his cheeks, but faded as he regained his composure.

It was my turn to smile, though my blush was still working its way from my own cheeks.

"I see, my King. Well, I'd be happy go for a ride with you, once I am ready. I won't be too long, I should think."

I could feel Orla itching to drag me back into the room and make me presentable. She was nothing like my mother when it came to painting my up like a doll and shoving my in front of people to be cooed at, but she didn't want King Bran to think of her as a terrible hand-maid who can't even dress her mistress properly, I think. Orla often worried that my mother would get rid of her, if she thought she was lazy or lax in her duties with me. She already thought we were too close. A lady and her servant, friends? Oh the horror! If this incident got back to my mother, I'm sure Orla thought she'd be done for.

Somehow, I don't think King Bran would tell anyone, but to put Orla at ease, I decided to cut off my conversation with King Bran, my recent embarrassment no longer bothering me as much. King Bran had a strangely calming presence. He put people at ease without any apparent effort.

"Wonderful, my lady. I will return you to your faithful hand-maid for a bit longer, and I shall return in a while to escort you to the stables?" King Bran said to me, the glint still in place.

"As you wish, my King. It would be my pleasure." I all but beamed back at him. The chest-jumping feeling was back. I don't know what it means, but I'm still not going to start questioning any happy feelings on this trip. I already had to deal with my mother; I needed all the happiness I could get.

He nodded and bowed to me once, smiling up from beneath his strangely long, thick eyelashes. I opted for a deep head nod and imperceptible bob of a curtsy, not planning on embarrassing myself any further by injuring him or myself, my almost-failed curtsey at the welcome party still present in my memories. He opened his mouth as if to say something else, then closed it, shook his head slightly, and nodded to me once more.

As King Bran and I both turned away from each other to walk down a corridor and enter a sleeping chamber, respectively, he walked away a few steps, and then turned; the "about to say something" look back on his face. Except, he actually did say something.

"My lady, hopefully we will be talking often during your stay here in Winterfell. Whilst I am sure you have been taught otherwise, you can just call me Bran, if you wish. Saying "my King," after every other sentence must tire you as much as saying "my lady," does me." He blurted out. A look of slight trepidation filled his previously playful eyes, though the reason for it, I did not know.

A full blown grin appeared on my face.

"It would be my honour, m…Bran." I began, "But if that is to be the way I address you, may I be so bold as to insist you call me Alianor?" I finished. Bran returned my grin, the tiniest dimples appearing at the corners of his mouth.

"That would be my honour, Alianor." He replied.

"I must tell you, though; I can only call you Bran when my mother and her informants in my father's court are out of ear-shot. If not, I think she might just die from the improperness of it all." I joked, but the half serious meaning hopefully apparent. An understanding nod began his reply.

"The same with my sister, Sansa. She is more relaxed now than she was as a young girl, but she still has her moments, and her disapproving looks still get me. We'll just be outrageously improper when we are alone." Bran joked back. I gave him an appreciative nod and a short laugh.

"Thank you, Bran." (I'd have to get used to that, it felt weird saying it without a "King" before it).

"You are very welcome, Alianor." He nodded back. There was an awful lot of nodding going on today, my brain observed in some corner of my mind.

"Farewell." I said.

"For a little while." He replied, turning to leave, his cane tapping lightly on the floor as he walked away.

The second his back was turned, Orla grabbed me by the back of my nightgown, dragged me into my chambers and attacked my head with a comb.

So, that was my fourth encounter with Bran.

I think it went quite well.

A half hour later, I was ready to leave my chambers. The nightgown had been exchanged for a looser fitting green dress, riding boots and a warm cloak. Hair was pulled back into twin braids down my back and sleep had been scrubbed from my face with rose water the hand-maid Hanna had actually brought (turns out that wasn't exactly just a cover-up). Orla finally deemed me fit for being seen, and sent a serving-girl to tell Bran I was ready. A few minutes later, he was at my door and we walked to the stables. Escorted by guards after we mounted our horses, we made our way slowly out of Winterfell's castle, through the Hunter's Gate, out into the vast fields beyond its walls.

Three guards, Orla and the serving-boy from the feast were riding with us, hanging far enough back that they couldn't hear what Bran and I were saying.

"So, Alianor, what is the rest of your family like? I have met your mother and father, obviously, but I hear you have sisters as well?"

"Yes, I do. Four of them. Isadora, Tyana, Mylla and Mara."

"You get along well with them?" He asked.

"At times. I get along best with Mara, who is only a year older than I. She is the most…relaxed out of all of them. Isadora, the eldest of all of us is essentially a watered-down version of my mother…" I saw Bran grimace a little at that. I know I would, at the idea of two of my mother. "Tyana, the second eldest, is alright, I suppose. She is prone to exaggerating things a bit. Everything is a drama with her. Her favourite comb breaks, and suddenly we must go to war with the Free Cities and conquer them all, to make sure she can always have jewels to replace the ones that fell out of the comb handle. Just in case they refuse to trade with us." I explained. Bran shook his head in disbelief, laughing at my descriptions.

"And the other two?" He pressed.

"Mylla, the third youngest out of us is reputedly the most beautiful, and I'd have to agree. She has the most amazing black hair that falls past her waist, tawny skin and the same violet eyes we all have, from our father. Yet hers seem to be larger than ours, so they look stunning. Though, she spends most of her time worrying about her hair, clothing and such. Which I can't imagine is good for worry lines, but what can you do."

"The most beautiful?" Bran repeated, looking forward. I nodded. "Matter of opinion, I'd contend." He said, glancing at me with a small smile. I ducked my head down to hide the blush that attacked my cheeks. I cleared my throat and continued speaking.

"Mara, as I said, is the one I get along with best. She prefers reading to messing around with dresses, though she doesn't like going outside as much. She's a decent person to talk to, though. Very kind, and a great listener. She married into the House of Martell, which leaves her near enough to Starfall that she can visit often."

"So you all have your father's eyes? The violet Dayne eyes." He noted.

"Yes. Same eyes, but all my sisters are tanned. I'm the only one who's pale. Mara, Tyana and Isadora have my mother's lighter brown hair, whilst Mylla and I have darker hair. Everybody says they all look more like my mother, whilst I favour my father. An old friend of my his once told me I looked almost exactly as my father did when he was a young boy, just with longer hair. He was drunk, though, so I don't know how accurate his assessment was." I laughed. Bran joined in, turning his horse to head towards some woods off to our left. I followed, and we continued riding slowly, enjoying the…less cold (the North is rarely "warm"), day. It was almost summer time in the North.

"And what about your siblings, Bran?" I asked.

"Well, you have met Arya and Sansa already, but I also have two brothers called Jon and Rickon. Jon lives in the far North, with his wife Ygritte. She's one of the Free Folk from beyond the wall. Jon's the commander of the new Nights Watch. Rickon lives here at Winterfell, with his wife Lady Alyce, of House Florent." He informed me.

"You're close with them?" I kept my eyes forward, watching the woods grow closer. Bran nodded.

"Yes, it was a year after the wars ended that I saw Rickon again. We had to be separated early on in the wars, when he had to go and stay with Greatjon Umber, one of our bannermen." Bran's gaze was stony, but distant, for a moment, focused on the forest as well, his jaw set slightly. He relaxed a moment later, finished with whatever he had been thinking. We stayed silent a few more moments, before Bran spoke again.

"I had a brother, Robb, who died in the early years of the wars." Bran said. He didn't elaborate further, and I didn't want the stony look back, so I didn't press any further.

We rode in silence for a little while longer, but it was more comfortable than the previous one. We finally entered the forest, Des whinnying slightly as we did. There was a path going through the forest, so we didn't have to push aside any branches just yet. The sunlight filtered through the leaves, speckling the ground with patches of light green and yellow, which danced whenever a breeze unsettled the leaves. I must have leaned too far to the forward to see the patterns, as I lost my balance and nearly slipped from my saddle. A sharp shot of anger surged through me. Stupid dress. Stupid side-saddle sitting. I had little control over Des at this angle, and I was forever grateful that he seemed to know where I wanted to go without proper instruction.

My almost-fall caught Bran's attention, as he turned his head sharply to look at me.

"Are you alright, Alianor?" He asked worriedly.

"Yes, I'm fine." I snapped back, annoyed at my saddle and dress, not Bran. But that didn't matter. I was irritated. This led to me forgetting who I was talking to.

"This stupid side-saddle nonsense is just…urgh! It irritates me so much! You men have it so much _easier_. You don't have to wear dresses, you can ride astride, and you don't have to worry about your hair getting caught in branches… All I wanted to do was see something further in front of my horse, and I nearly fall off! And it's not just because I am ridiculously clumsy, I've seen other ladies nearly do the same." I let out a final huff of indignation, directed at the inanimate object I was sitting on. But I think Bran thought it was aimed at me. At least, the stricken look on his face led me to believe so.

"I am sorry, Alianor. I…I don't know what to say." He stammered, looking apologetic. A confused look crossed my face.

"Why are you sorry, Bran?" I asked. Then it dawned on me. He thought I was angry at him! Oh gods…

"Oh no! I'm not angry at you! I'm just annoyed at my saddle. It is painfully impractical, and the only purpose it serves on short rides like this is leaving a few creases out of my dress. People always say it is more comfortable to ride like this, but I have no such experience. It just…" I sighed, not sure how to finish my explanation. A look of intense relief came upon Bran's face.

"I see. Why don't you ride astride like me, then? The only people here are you and I. The guards and servants are far back, and wouldn't care either way, I'm sure. I don't care either. It's how Meera and Arya ride. I know that none of the children would ride side-saddle, if they had the patience to stay on a slow moving horse for any amount of time." He assured me. I looked at him skeptically, before smiling, shoving my foot into the left stirrup, dropping all my weight down so I was hanging on the left side of Des, swinging my right foot over and pulling myself up to sit astride.

My dress skirt rode up to around mid-calf, but my boots went to the knee, so I suppose I was still somewhat modest. I could imagine the horrified look my mother would give me if she saw me like this, and it made me smile even wider.

"Much better!" I exclaimed happily. Bran laughed and spurred his horse onwards a little faster. I did the same, now that I had full control of Des. Bran narrowed his eyes a little, the playful glint from the previous day back in them. He urged his horse faster, into a fast canter. I did the same.

He suddenly spurred his mount into a full gallop, getting only a few feet ahead, before Des and I caught on and galloped off behind them. The wind immediately began tearing at my hair as we raced through the forest, hot on Bran's tail. A laugh bubbled up from my lips, only to be caught by the wind and lost in the light roar. The road began to weave through some trees, diverging into two close paths. Bran took the one on the left; I took the one on the right. I finally caught up and we drew up alongside him, separated by the row of trees that split the road.

I caught glimpses of Bran between each tree, and saw him looking at me now and then, seeing how I was faring in our race to nowhere. I knew Des could outrun him if we tried, so I urged him on faster. He understood what I wanted, and he galloped faster, so the trees became a green and brown blur around us.

The trees splitting the road ended and it became one again, pulling Bran and I closer together, in our race, me in the lead. Any closer my foot would have touched the shoulder of his horse. Bran tried hard to bring us level again, but after a few minutes, he gave up, letting his reins go slack and slumping ever so slightly in his saddle in defeat. His horse slowed and I pulled on Des' to make him do the same. We drew level once we had slowed, both breathing hard, though it was the horses that had done the hard-work really.  
I tried to hide my victorious grin, but I failed dismally. Bran rolled his eyes good-naturedly and let out an undignified snort.

"I let you win." He scoffed, sending me a mock scowl.

"Hardly! I won that race!" I replied, fighting the extreme urge to stick my tongue out at the end. I settled for an overly-cocky hair flick, flinging my now-messy braid over my shoulder. Bran shook his head and chuckled softly.

"Alright, you won. But you can't tell anyone. I have a reputation to maintain, and no-one will serve a King who can't win any horse-race he has against a woman. Arya and Meera both beat me many times too." He admitted with a smile. His eyes were dancing with laughter, making them sparkled in a mesmerising way. I nodded, and raised a hand.

"I swear, your secret is safe with me." I promised. Bran nodded, grinning at me. We carried on riding for a little while longer, the guards, Orla and the servant boy catching up a fair bit later too.

We talked about light-hearted topics, nothing all that personal. Mainly books and tales we both liked. I told Bran a few tales I knew from my childhood down in Dorne, whilst he told me the stories an old servant woman he called Old Nan told him when he was young. His were better than mine, but he looked interested enough when I told them.

We eventually turned back and began our ride back to Winterfell castle. I caught Orla's eyes as I turned Des around and she winked at me, a knowing smirk on her lips. What she knew to cause her to smirk like that, I didn't know, but it wasn't an irksome smirk, so I just rolled my eyes at her and smiled. On the ride home we didn't race, but Bran and I did mess around with the horses, trying to keep our horses noses that in front of the others, but never speeding up to more than a trot, both giving in every now and then and falling back a little. Only to try again a minute or two later.

We did this until we left the shelter of the forest, back into the open field land, Winterfell just on the horizon before us.

"I enjoyed myself very much today, Alianor. You are without doubt the most interesting riding partner I've ever had. I'm afraid when we get back to Winterfell, I will have to go and attend some of my duties, including talking with your father and mother some, but later in the afternoon, would you care to join me for a walk in the Godswood. I actually have something to show you this time." Bran said.

"I had a wonderful time too. Of course, I would love to go for a walk with you, Bran." I answered enthusiastically, nodding and smiling. Then realised I must look a bit silly, so I tried to compose myself and be lady-like and coy, like I should be according to my mother and teachers. Bran noticed this, because he shook his own head.

"One of my favourite things about you so far, Alianor, is that you actually show how you feel. Don't worry about being like every other lady of the court when we are alone. That's one of the reasons I actually _want_ to speak with you alone. You aren't like them. It's as if you show whatever you think all over your face, and yet you have so many thoughts that I can never keep up. You are still a mystery to me. I have to talk to you to understand you, to know what's going on in your mind. It's a unique gift, and one no other lady I have met in the past few years possess." He stared right at me as he spoke. As if he was trying to read my mind at that moment. I cocked an eyebrow, then crossed my eyes and wrinkled my nose like a rabbit.

Bran jerked back in surprise, snapped out of his reverie, a laugh escaping his mouth. We were riding back into Winterfell by then, courtiers walking within earshot, so Bran and I both straightened slightly, the formal postures and facades back in place.

"You are truly one of a kind, Lady Alianor. I'm look forward to the rest of your visit. I have a feeling it will be most…interesting." He said carefully, the only part of our interaction from seconds ago still present being the now familiar glint in his eyes.

"As am I, my King."

We dismounted and said farewell, Bran following Lord Jojen (who had arrived just after we had returned to the stables, with Bran's cane in hand) into the castle. I was swept up by ladies the second I stepped from the stables into the courtyard.

They gossiped around me in a huddle, twittering on about Bran, asking me questions about him, and about our ride, only to create their own answers before I could even think to answer.

This went on for some time, before I somehow escaped and found my way to the library on the other side of the courtyard. I hid there for a long while, reading a small story book that caught my eye, until I heard Orla calling for me.

We then retired to my chambers, to get me out of my dusty riding clothes and into a less comfortable, but clean, dress.

"I've said it before, but I'll say it again, Lady. You've definitely caught the King's eye." Orla stated.

I rolled my eyes at her, a common occurrence today, it seemed.

"He is just being friendly. I am a guest in his home, after all. I admit, he seems to be doing more than he needs to, to welcome me and all, but that may just be what he does when he meets someone new. He's hardly declaring his undying love for me or something."

"I never said he was, Lady. But your mother and father are new to him too, yet they didn't go on a long ride with him, alone, this morning, did they?" She sounded so smug, as if she had one the little argument already.

"We weren't alone, you were there! So was that serving boy, and the guards!" I protested.

"Oh, we don't count, not _really_, anyhow. We're people, yes. And our presence means you aren't _truly_ alone, but we weren't part of your conversations. Face it, Lady, you were essentially alone with King Bran. We couldn't have stopped you if you were to…get a little more familiar…" Orla retorted, a little wink accompanying her words.

"Orla! You have a filthy mind! Bran would never be so dishonourable as that! And neither would I!" I laughed, "And I don't think for a minute that you would hesitate to slay any man who tried to go near me, King or not. You care too much for my honour to let me do anything so bold and reckless." I joked.

"And don't you forget it, Lady." Orla huffed, but I could tell she was pleased with what I said.

It was a good few hours after my ride with Bran by this point, after my time in the library. A knock at my chamber doors was revealed to be a serving girl, come to tell me "King Bran wishes to see you, my lady."

Orla finished combing out my hair, letting me wear it loose in waves for once, and I left my chambers, to go and see Bran yet again that day. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't excited.

* * *

Author's note: I know I said a couple days, but I had a full free day, and I felt like writing. So here ya go! Another chapter. A little bit more Bran/Alianor. I'm not great with titles, by the way, so I will sometimes use quotes from books that fit close enough. Today's title was from Mockingjay, by Suzanne Collins (said by Katniss Everdeen). Interpret it as you will, or not at all. :)

The title of the story itself, Every Hour Wounds, is from Neil Gaiman's American Gods (one of my favourite books).

"_Every hour wounds. The last one kills._"

Critique, comment, correct. Reviews are much appreciated!

XO and DFTBA

Jennifer


	7. Into the Godswood

Chapter 6: Into the Godswood

I met Bran at the entrance to the Godswood, after receiving directions from one of the servants scurrying by in the halls of Winterfell.

I made my way quickly over the muddy courtyard, doing my best not to spoil my second dress of that day. Long steps on tiptoe, my skirts held as high up off the ground as modesty would allow. Bran quirked an amused eyebrow at my strange methods, but said nothing about them.

"Hello again, my lady." He said formally, as I arrived before him, glancing at the ladies who were standing close by in a doorway into the castle, taking turns staring at Bran and I, whilst inching ever so slightly closer, obviously trying to eavesdrop as best they could from a distance.

"My King." I replied with my usual deep nod, in place of a curtsy.

"Are you ready to join me for a walk in the Godswood now?" He asked, the overly-proper formalities more of a joke than an actual front now.

"Why yes, my King, I believe I am." I replied, my face tilted ever so slightly too high and my voice that little bit too airy to be serious.

He crooked his left elbow for me to take hold of, so I slipped my hand slightly through it and gripped his fore-arm lightly. I saw the eyes of the ladies narrow in something akin to jealousy as Bran led me through the wooden door caught between two towering trees, and into the Godswood.

The obligatory serving boy and Orla followed us, to make sure rumours didn't fly. As soon as we were out of sight and earshot of the ladies, Bran and I dissolved into small bouts of laughter. Orla and the serving boy hung back, as they had on our ride that morning.

"I have never seen someone so inherently _awful_ at eavesdropping! Do they always do that?" I asked, giggling in between sentences.

"Oh, yes, all the time! Lord Jojen gets deeply disturbed by it. He says he can feel their eyes watching him wherever he goes. But did you see their faces? They looked as though they might murder you for so much as looking at me!" Bran laughed. "I can never understand why they feel so…possessive over me. Half of them are already married, and the other half go just as mad over the knights as they do me. Don't worry though; you're quite safe in Winterfell. They won't poison you or anything… I hope." He joked. I sent him a playful-glare.

"Well that makes me feel so much better, thanks." I nudge him gently, careful not to knock him too hard and force him off balance. "So, what is it you wanted to show me?" I enquired, remembering what he had said earlier.

We had been walking as we spoke, and were now fairly deep into the Godswood, following a path only marked out by past footsteps that had crushed the plants on the ground.

"Just a little farther, then you'll see what I wanted to show you. Do you know what the sigil of House Stark is?" Bran asked, looking at me as we walked.

"Of course, it's a grey direwolf. Everybody in the Seven Kingdoms knows that." I replied.

"Did you know I own a direwolf? Rickon does too, as do Arya and Jon. Mine's called Summer, Rickon's is Shaggydog, Jon's is Ghost and Arya's is Nymeria." He told me.

"I had heard of your wolves from the ladies of my father's court before we began travelling to Winterfell. They were wondering if they would see them, but I haven't seen any myself, so far."

"You haven't seen Nymeria or Shaggydog because they are being kept in the Godswood for the first few days of your visit. Ghost is with Jon further North, of course. Your father brought so many courtiers, they would have felt threatened. We haven't had so many people visit Winterfell since it was built. So Arya, Rickon and I agreed to keep them here until things settle down and they could see that there was no invading party in Winterfell once let out, just guests." We continued walking farther into the Godswood, Bran leading me off the beaten bath and into the more densely packed trees. The unbroken canopy of leaves overhead were shading us entirely from the sun, making everything around us take on a greenish glow.

"Yes, my family never travel lightly, I'm afraid. This was actually a fairly small party, as far as my father is concerned… "I sighed. "And what about Summer?" I had noticed he had left his direwolves name out of that explanation.

He looked at me with an grin, the now familiar sparkle in his eyes as he un-crooked his arm, instead taking my hand in his and pulling me a little faster behind him, his cane finding just the right purchases on the ground to allow him to move quickly and not get caught in the roots of the trees. I let out a small "Oh" in surprise, but hurried to keep up.

A moment later we broke out of the trees, into a slight clearing. There was a small black pool in the centre of the clearing, with a tree next to it. Its leaves were deep reds and pinks, casting the strangest coloured light onto the ground as the sun shone through its branches.

By the pool there lay two wolves. One was a giant grey direwolf, the other a much smaller black wolf. The grey direwolf perked its head up and looked directly at Bran, before rising and padding over to us. It had a grey coat that shone like silver in the sunlight as it moved, its yellow eyes moving from Bran to train themselves on me.

I shifted slightly behind Bran, a little wary of the giant direwolf, its eyes level with mine, even when I was standing upright. Given that Bran towered over me, being a good few heads taller, I felt a bit safer hiding behind him. But then, the direwolf had stopped just before us and lowered its back haunches to the ground and stayed there. It was so still it looked more like a finely carved statue than an actual creature, for a moment

Bran turned his head to his left to look at me, only to realise I was no longer there, but now behind him. He let out a bark of laughter and twisted to gently grab my hand and bring me around to his side again.

"Don't worry, he won't hurt you. He can see you aren't a source of danger, so he has no problem with you. Come, put your hand out." My eyes widened in fear. **What?! Stick my hand out at the giant direwolf with insanely large teeth that could bite my head off, never mind my hand, with my ridiculously tiny wrist? Oh, hell no! **

Once more, Bran seemed to read my mind, grabbing my wrist himself and drawing my hand up in front of me, his large hands easily encircling my upper forearm, near the elbow. I felt even tinier as he did so, which didn't help with the "giant wolf being able to eat me whole" thoughts… I fought him a little, trying to bring it back down to my side, but his firm grip and the soft look in his eyes when I looked up at him to protest stopped me succeeding.

"Just breathe." He told me. I did so, some tension leaving my shoulders. I relaxed my arm, my wrist and hand going ever so slightly limp, supported in the air by Bran. Summer rose again and closed the gap between us. I flinched back ever so slightly, squeezing my eyes shut.

**Well. This is it. It was nice having a right hand while it lasted. You should probably have made him raise your left arm, at least then you could still swing a sword properly… It's these kinds of things you should think of **_**before **_**you offer a direwolf an important limb as a treat, Ally. **My brain babbled at me.

But a wet nose butting against the back of my limp hand made me open my eyes. Summer was there, pressing his muzzle to my hand, sniffing it softly. A sudden wet feeling on my fingers led me to realise he was now licking me. I moved back towards the large wolf curiously. Bran's hand dropped from my wrist as he saw I wasn't about to run away. He stood back a little, giving me room to move closer to Summer. My past fear slowly ebbed away as the direwolf licked my hand more avidly, the tickling feeling of his tongue making me giggle a little.

"You can pet him, if you'd like." Bran whispered, doing his best not to scare me.

I very slowly brought my hand up to stroke Summer, making sure the wolf could see my hand at all times and not be surprised when I touched him. I still wanted to keep that hand, and I don't think shocking the massive direwolf, whose teeth were less than an inch from said hand, was a good way to go about that.

I got my hand to the top of Summer's head, and froze, just a hair's breadth away from touching his fur. Summer stopped licking me for a moment and cocked his head to the side, closing that final distance, pressing into my outstretched palm and nuzzling into it, then continued licking my other hand.

His fur was surprisingly soft, as I dragged my hand down his back, petting him as tenderly as I could. It wasn't like when I petted Des, who preferred hard, long strokes as I brushed him in the stables back in Starfall (without my mother's knowledge, of course. Tending horses is the stable-boys job, not a ladies...). I didn't know how exactly to pet a direwolf, so I went with the approach I took with my mother's cat (who I named Ser Whiskers as a child. He had no formal name, since my mother thought that was childish...). Soft and gently strokes.

Either way, Summer didn't seem to mind, though I doubt he could feel my strokes properly through his thick coat.

Once I seemed comfortable with Summer, Bran stepped forward again and started to scratch behind the direwolf's left ear, causing him to lean away from me, into his hand.

"He's been here for nearly forty days." Bran told me. I looked to him, slightly confused as to what he meant.

"You see the wolf over there, by the weirwood? That's Summer's mate. He came back to Winterfell with her forty days ago. Shaggydog, Nymeria and Summer go out hunting for their own food every now and then, but Summer had been going at more often than the other two for about three moon cycles. One day, he came back from a hunt with that female following him, pregnant. He had been going to her all that time to attract her and mate. Once she was pregnant, we reasoned that he brought her here to make a Den so she can deliver her pups in safety. He only leaves the Godswood when I call him, or to hunt. But when he leaves her, I can feel he is more agitated than normal, anxious to return to her. But he is too loyal to disobey me and not come when I call. So I let him stay here. Shaggydog and Nymeria help him by bringing them food when they go to hunt as well. They seem to have formed a small pack, with Summer as the dominant male."

I nodded for Bran to continue, listening intently to him speak. We sat down on the opposite side of the black pool, watching as Summer turned to return to the female wolf, re-taking his protective watch by her side. She had turned around to look at us as he padded back over to her, her pale green eyes watching our every move.

"During the wars, Shaggydog and Summer protected Rickon and I. Nymeria was lost for a long time during the wars, and formed her own pack, but when she returned near the end of the wars, she brought that pack with her. Some still live in the forests near Winterfell. We think Summer's mate is one of those wolves. Don't worry about the wolves in the forests, though; they never attack any friend or ally of Winterfell and the North. We see them as our guardians. I think they're the only reason Summer is alright letting me leave Winterfell alone, at least whilst he guards his mate." He explained. I made a noise of acknowledgement, but I was busy looking at the wolves, as the female decided to clean herself, and Summer settled down, placing his head on his paws. His grey tail swept from side to side behind him as he lay there.

"They're beautiful." I whispered, more to myself than anything else. I felt Bran nod beside me, and relax a little; probably happy I wasn't scared of the wolves anymore.

A small snap of a twig came from back in the forest, around the direction we came from. Summer sat up quickly, teeth bared. A low rumble of a growl resounded around the clearing, coming from the large direwolf.

"It's your hand-maid and Cedric. Here, let's leave so they don't disturb the Den. If they come, the wolves may feel it's not safe and leave." Bran said in a rush. He stood up and helped me up, though I didn't really need it.

He looked across the pool at Summer, who turned to meet his eyes. A brief moment passed where their eyes locked. Summer stopped growling for some reason, but didn't sit back down. Bran dragged his eyes back to me and took my hand, pulling me after him as we left the clearing.

We made our way back through the Godswood, meeting Orla and Cedric only a little way off the path we had strayed from earlier.

"I am sorry, my King. We lost sight of you earlier on. A message came, asking that you come to speak to Lord Jojen as soon as you returned from deeper within the Godswood. The messenger sounded urgent so we…thought it best to…look…for…" Cedric babbled quickly, before trailing off, probably unsure whether he had done something wrong.

"You did nothing wrong, Cedric. Lady Alianor simply wished to see the weirwood further in the Godswood. We lost track of time when we were speaking. Do not worry." Bran turned to me. "I am sorry, my lady, I must leave you. I could escort you to wherever you wish to go…" It was Bran's turn to trail off.

"Oh no, that is quite alright, my King. I was simply going to retire to my chambers and prepare for dinner." I replied, seeing a slightly worried look in Bran's eyes. Whatever Lord Jojen had to tell him was much more important than escorting me back to my chambers. Bran nodded sharply, a grateful smile in place. I smiled back.

"Farewell then, my lady. I will see you at dinner." He bowed and departed, nodding to Orla and Cedric as he did so.

"Farewell, my King." I said to his retreating back. I looked at Orla, slightly confused and worried. She just cocked an eyebrow and shrugged. Cedric just stared at his master's retreating form in relief, happy he had done nothing wrong, and then quickly followed him, shooting Orla a strange look as he passed her. She returned a similar one, and then turned to me.

"Well, let's get you back to your chambers, Lady. You've managed to soil yet another dress." She said, reaching behind me to grab a piece of my skirt and trying to scrape a bit of dried dirt off that I hadn't realised I had gotten on it. Must have happened when I sat down by the pool. It was Orla's turn to start walking away, but this time I followed, my shorter legs having to hurry to keep up with her long strides.

"Honestly, Lady. You are the only lady I know of who changes their dress so many times, and has a reason beyond vanity to do so! I suppose I should be thankful for that, I cannot imagine serving a lady who changes three times a day because she has nothing better to do. Though I'd have a lot less washing and sewing to do, I'm sure. You will be having a bath this evening too, Lady, seeing as how you have so much dust and dirt all over you. Luck for you, I got some of the other hand-maids to draw the bath while you walked with the King, so it will be ready for you whenever we get back to your chambers." Orla chattered as we walked back to the wooden doors out of the Godswood.

I made a noise to show I had heard her, and half-nodded, but my mind was on Bran. He had looked so worried when he heard Lord Jojen was looking for him. I wondered what he had to tell him that could have made Bran react like that.

I wondered on that all the way back to my chambers, all but ignoring the ladies who flitted around me as I left the Godswood. A knight walked past us as they tried to ambush me, drawing their attention away long enough for Orla to get us away and through a door nearby. We eventually made our way to my chambers, Orla making sure we avoided people who would want to stop and chat. She could always tell when I wanted to be in my own head for a while, and did everything she could to let me do so. I honestly have no idea how I'd live without her, she kept me sane.

Once we had reached our destination, I was undressed and in a large wooden tub in no time, the hot, scented water reaching my shoulders as I sank down into it. All of the minor aches and pains from the previous day and this morning's ride seemed to melt away into the water.

Orla came over and helped me wash my hair, rubbing sweet smelling cleansing oils through the strands. Once I was clean, she helped me from the tub, making sure I didn't fall over my own feet or the high sides.

Once I was dried and in yet another gods-forsaken dress, Orla let me sit on the edge of my bed and read whilst she braided random bits of my hair.

A loud knocking on my chamber door made both of us jump. Orla got off the bed to go and open it. It was Meera Reed.

Orla opened the door wider and Meera walked through it, her eyes scanning the room before settling on me. A wide smile spread across her face.

"I hear you went to see the direwolves today?" She said, coming over and sitting on a chair just opposite me.

"Yes, King Bran took me to see them in the Godswood." I replied.

"That's nice, he hasn't let anyone in there but Arya and Rickon for weeks... Speaking of Bran, he wanted me to apologise again for how he had to leave you earlier today. He feels bad about it, says he should have seen you to your chambers or something, at least." She told me.

"What? Oh gods, no! That would have been completely unnecessary. I'll have to tell him it really wasn't a problem the next time I see him."

"Don't feel bad or anything. Bran has always been like that, as long as I've known him. If he likes you, he will do everything in his power to make sure you are safe and happy, even if it's something as little as walking you to your chambers. He's not as bad with people like Osha, Arya and I, since I helped protect him when he was younger, during the wars, as did Osha."

"Osha… She's the woman who was looking after Anna and William at the feast last night, right?" I asked. Meera nodded.

"Mmhmm, that's right. We've all proven that we can protect ourselves, so he doesn't fret as much. He tried to be protective of Arya once they were re-united, but she stopped that pretty quickly. She told him that she had survived the war too, and could take any man in Winterfell's guard in a fight. It was her way of telling him not to worry about her, I suppose. For the past few years, you would be hard pressed to find a man or woman in Winterfell who couldn't defend themselves.

_You_, on the other hand, have yet to prove you are anything but a vulnerable little rabbit in a den of wolves. A lovely rabbit, who is wonderful to talk to, but a rabbit none the less. And since Bran has taken a liking to you, he's going out of his way to make sure you are safe and happy. And since _I've_ taken a liking to you too, as has Arya, we're going to help you, so that you can manage yourself around Winterfell. If you wanted, of course." Meera said. "You seemed so interested when I was telling you about the guards and their training routines at the feast; I thought you may want to join Arya and I when we train. Arya seemed to think so too, from whatever impression you left on her.

If you don't want to, you can come and watch instead, and just spend some time with us. I know Arya wants to get to know you better, as do I." She finished. I sat there for a second, taking in all that information, before a giant grin grew onto my face as her offer sank in.

"Of course! I would love to!" I all but yelled at her, fighting the urge to throw my arms around her neck and hug her. I refrained, since she had weapons on her back and sides, and I didn't want to impale myself on them.

But then reality sank in.

"But I can't. My mother would never approve of it, or let me to do anything like that. The last time she found out I was anywhere near the training grounds of Starfall, she banned me from leaving the castle for weeks, even though I was only there because _her _ladies had dragged me with them to watch the knights train." I explained, rolling my eyes. Meera nodded slowly, a wicked smile spreading across her face.

"Well, whilst_ I_ would say what your mother doesn't know can't hurt her, nothing stays sacred in Winterfell for long, even more so now with the additional company. But, when we told Bran what we wanted to do, he said the same thing you just did. So we spoke to your mother. I believe Bran told her that it was a tradition in the North to share our ways and practises with guests. And one of those practises was to train higher-born ladies with the bow and arrow. He told her that Arya, Sansa and I were all trained, and that we wanted to show you how to use them too, whilst you stayed in Winterfell. He convinced her it was as a sign of welcome and goodwill. She could hardly turn him down after he said that, could she?" Meera let out a soft chuckle.

"Lady Sansa can use a bow and arrow?" I asked for some reason, slightly dazed.

"No, but your mother didn't need to know that. But Arya and I actually are, as you know." Meera grinned wickedly.

I was amazed that they had gone to such lengths to let me train with them. They didn't even know if I would be any good, and yet they did all that. Bran even lied to my mother for me, a second time!

"So I can really train with you?" I asked, bouncing in my place. I felt like my cheeks would explode, I was smiling so much.

"Yes, you really can. We can start tomorrow, if you'd like. Arya said you can borrow some of her old training clothes that she has grown out of. They should be about the right size, she thinks." Meera told me, getting up and heading towards the door.

"I have to be going now, my brother was saying something about wanting to speak with me before dinner. It was a pleasure talking to you again, Lady Alianor." She said.

"Please, just call me Alianor. And thank you so much, Meera. I can't even begin to say how much I appreciate what you are doing for me." I replied. The side of her mouth tweaked up in a half-smile.

"It's no bother. You seem a decent sort, and I have a feeling we'll be seeing a lot more of each other in the future. But I really must go. We can talk more at dinner in a little while. Farewell, Alianor."

"Farewell." I answered, and she left, closing the door behind her.

Orla, who had been pottering around the room as I had been speaking to Meera looked at me, raised an eyebrow and grinned.

"I'm beginning to like it here at Winterfell, Lady. The lords and ladies lie for good causes, the food is better, you seem happier than you have in years…"

"And there are handsome serving boys to take long walks in the Godswood with." I finished for her, raising my own eyebrow playfully at her. A look of shock met my knowing smirk.

"How did you… I mean, what do you mean, Lady?" Orla blushed deeply, turning away to busy herself with something on the dressing cabinet.

"You know exactly what I mean, Orla. I saw the look you gave Cedric in the Godswood. And you were speaking with him at the feast as well. Do you like him?" I asked, enjoying being able to tease Orla a little, for once. She spun around with a sigh, and scowled at me, but a small smile tugged at her lips.

"How do you know he isn't just a serving boy who serves King Bran the most often?" Orla smirks back at me, evidently trying not to give anything away.

"He might be… But both times he has accompanied you when Bran and I go somewhere, you've been leading him with you. Which makes me think that you chose him to come along. Which brings me back to my question. Do. You. Like. Him?" I leaned forward, resting my elbows on my knees, my chin in my hands and I waited, looking at Orla expectantly. The scowl came back and her shoulders dropped as her attempt at dissuading me failed.

"I may enjoy his company, Lady. But I am not looking for romance of any sort as of yet. Too much hassle, and I don't need any more on top of what you already give me. Three dresses in so many hours, Lady. I wouldn't have time for a man, unless he can clean a dress while he woos me. Anyway, men are nothing but trouble, and I don't like trouble." She laughed, rolling her eyes at me.

"All of your troubles come from me. You deserve someone that makes you happy." I observe.

"Yes, all my troubles come from you, Lady, but I wouldn't have it any other way. You're the closest thing I have to a friend in this world. Making you happy makes me happy. Should a man come along who sweeps me off my feet and make my heart leap, I'll be sure to tell you. But right now, my feet are firmly on the ground, King Bran's serving boy is just a nice boy to talk to whilst you go off gallivanting with the King, and _you _need to be getting a move on and getting ready to be escorted to dinner. You haven't even got your shoes on yet." Orla said, placing her hands on her hips and looking at my bare feet that were hanging just above the floor as I swung my legs off the side of the bed.

I huffed and started putting my shoes on, but I looked up at Orla as I did so.

"I consider you my closest friend in this world, Orla. If you ever need anything, you only have to ask." I told her. Her eyes softened from their former challenging gaze.

"Thank you, Lady." Was all she said softly in reply, but since Orla rarely does anything softly, I knew that she truly appreciated the sentiment.

The moment was broken as another sharp rap on my door signaled my escort to dinner for the evening's arrival. Orla opened the door to reveal one of the men of my father's guard, whose name I couldn't for the life of me remember.

He bowed deeply and I did sent him a careful curtsy back, and then we made our way to dinner, him leaving me as we reached to high entrance to the Great Hall.

I stepped inside and looked around for anyone I would actually want to talk to. I eventually caught the eye of Meera, just as she finished a conversation with Lord Jojen, and began to make my way over to her.

I couldn't shake the lovely feeling that if my stay at Winterfell continued like this, I may actually enjoy being here for the next few weeks.

* * *

Sorry it took a while to update, I was ridiculously busy the past couple days. Anywho, here's a new chapter! Hope you enjoy it. Comment, correct or critique in the reviews bit, if you want to. All of the reviews I get are very much appreciated. :) Have a great day/night!

XO Jennifer


	8. Target Practise

Chapter 7: Target Practise

Dinner passed surprisingly uneventfully. There was the same atmosphere of dancing, drinking and general merry-making as there was at the welcome feast, but my family weren't the centre of attention as much as we were that first night. I was grateful for that, as I couldn't face avoiding dancing for the entire evening again.

Bran was present at dinner, but he looked lost in thought for most of it, only breaking his concentration when Lady Sansa reprimanded him for not eating and letting his food go cold. He engaged in some conversations after that, from what I could see in my place with Meera at the right end of the table. I made eye contact with Bran a few times throughout the entire evening, and both times he was looking at me already. He always smiled at me when our eyes met, but something in his eyes was off, like he was confused somehow.

They held a strange look, one I couldn't put my finger on, but it reminded me faintly of the look in Summer's eyes when he was watching us as we first entered the clearing earlier that day, but slightly different. Almost like he was assessing me. Not in the way a butcher assess a cut of meat, or how Summer's had been assessing me to look for a threat, exactly.

I couldn't find any example to accurately liken it too. But it wasn't unpleasant… Just confusing. I shook the feelings and thoughts off, and focused on my conversation with Meera, who was talking me through the possible training I could partake in with the tomorrow. So far, we had decided I would focus on archery and knife throwing with Meera, and possibly some sword-work with Arya if we had time.

We spoke about light-hearted topics like the direwolves and the children (who were running around their table at the right hand side of the Great Hall, causing as much trouble for Osha as they could), for the rest of dinner, before Meera had to leave to talk with a knight about some thing or other. I was left alone, to my own thoughts, for a while, before I finally decided I could leave to go to bed and not be thought rude. I bade goodnight to my father (I couldn't see my mother anywhere, but that didn't bother me any), and anyone I saw on the way to the doors at the back of the room.

Orla followed me as I slipped through the doors and made my way to my chambers, walking quietly by my side as we navigated the many halls and staircases of Winterfell.

Like the previous night, I got ready for bed and was asleep before my head hit the pillow. I slept deeply that night…

The Next Day…

I may have dreamed that night, but nothing was remembered the next morning when a loud knocking on Orla's door in the room connected to mind woke me up. I lay there thinking about the day of training with Meera and Lady Arya that awaited me, whilst I listened to Orla greet whoever it was at her door and go about her duties, before she came into my room. During that time, though, something occurred to me…

But then Orla interrupted my train of thought, by walking in, holding Arya's borrowed training clothes in her arms, a wide grin on her face.

"Wake up, Lady. You have a whole day of training ahead of you. Gods, I never thought I'd ever get to say those words in this lifetime. Up, you have to meet Lady Meera and Lady Arya in the courtyard soon."

"How soon is soon?" I mumbled into the pillow, turning away from her. So it probably sounded more like…

"Hm sm ee sm?"

Either way, Orla understood me (she's great like that), and just sighed and pulled the covers off me. The cold morning air attacked me with unrelenting pokes of cold fingers, leaving goose-bumps on my skin as I quickly curled into a little ball, hugging my pillow for warmth.

Orla sighed exasperatedly again, and came forward, grabbing the pillow too and trying her best to yank it away from me.

"I thought you wanted to go and train with Lady Meera and Lady Arya? Why are you being so fickle about getting up?" She asked, grunting between every few words as we fought over the pillow.

"I do want to train with them. But I won't be able to be any good at archery or knife throwing when I do!" I answered, tugging the pillow back to me for all I was worth. Orla tugged back even harder, pulling me forward a little, along with it. **Gods be damned, this woman is strong!**

"What do you mean you won't be able to be any good? Do you think you aren't good enough? Because I've seen you shoot and throw before, Lady, and you are plenty good enough!" Orla admonished, relinquishing the pillow and placing her hands on her hips.

I burrowed my face into the pillow and stayed silent for a minute. When Orla didn't move or say anything else, I knew she wouldn't drop the matter until I told her something.

"Fine." I said, tossing the pillow away from me to the end of the bed and sat up. "I won't be able to shoot properly when I'm training with them, because people will be watching." I told her.

"But you aren't shy, Lady. Clumsy, yes. Short-tempered, yes. A little bit silly and a little mad too, yes. But never shy." Orla sat down on the bed near me, looking directly at me, looking a little confused.

"I know that. I just mean, since people will be there, watching me! I can't be good. Because if I go out there and shoot anything like I do at home, they'll see that I know how to! I'm meant to be a complete novice at archery and knife throwing and sword fighting. If I appear to know what I'm doing straight off, it will get back to my mother. And she may figure out I have done all that stuff before. And then, when I return to Starfall at the end of this visit, she'll keep such a close eye on me, I'll never be able to do anything like that at home ever again!" I despaired, throwing myself down onto the mattress dramatically.

Then Orla started laughing. I sat up again, glaring at her.

"What's so funny?" I demanded, confused and slightly irritated that she was laughing at me.

"Oh, Lady, you sound like your sister! So dramatic! All over something you could easily fix! Why don't you just tell Lady Meera all that? She obviously doesn't care about women training with weapons. I highly doubt she would tell your mother about your secret exploits with a bow and arrow. If you explained your problem to her, she would understand, I'm sure! She may even be able to make sure it's only you, her and Lady Arya there while you train.

I saw their training grounds, Lady. There is room for spectators, yes, but it is closed off. If they didn't want anyone there, they could make sure nobody was!" She exclaimed. "They like you, Lady. They're doing this for you, to be kind and welcome you. I doubt anybody would go to such lengths to get you to be allowed to train with them, only to deliberately get you into trouble when they find out you know something already." Orla stated, her eyebrow cocked, as if waiting for me to challenge her.

I opened my mouth to try and find fault in her suggestion, but a hard look from her made me close it again, my shoulders sagging in defeat. I nodded and dragged my body from my bed and slumped into the seat by the dresser. Orla began our daily routine of hacking at my head with a comb and washing, before she left me to allow me to dress into Arya's old training clothes (since I could do that by myself. They weren't half as fiddly as dresses were).

After a light breakfast of fruit and some other things Orla still had left over from our journey two days prior, I followed Orla to the courtyard, her dragging me along by my hand through Winterfell until we reached our destination.

Meera and Arya were already there, standing by some heavy looking doors that I assumed led to the archery training grounds. They looked at me slightly bemused as Orla marched across the courtyard with me in tow like a petulant child and her mother. I knew I was acting childish, but after keeping my training a secret for over eight years back at Starfall, Orla was suggesting I tell two women I had known less than three days the biggest secret I currently held, with only good faith and hope telling me that they wouldn't somehow let it slip to my mother.

I wasn't exactly ecstatic about the idea.

But if Orla thought it was the right thing to do, she is usually never wrong. At least, she's never been wrong about anything so far.

_But there's a first time for everything. _My brain hissed at me.

**Shut up, shut up, shut up…** I replied. Thankfully, my brain did as it was told for once, and shut up.

By that time I was near enough to Arya and Meera for Orla to decide to swing me around by my arm so I was in front of her.

"Hello?" Meera asked, probably confused at the death glare I was giving Orla. Without the context of our friendship and familiarity, mine and Orla's actions most likely looked incredibly strange. Thankfully, it seemed only Meera and Arya were in the courtyard to witness it. It was early morning, so none of the other ladies seemed to be up and sniffing around for gossip just yet.

"Hello." I replied, staring at Arya and Meera, planning the rest of our current conversation. I had no idea how I would begin explaining anything to them, like Orla suggested.

"Are you alright, Alianor? You look like a scared deer." Arya said, tilting her head slightly, looking closely at my face, as if that would give her an answer before my mouth could.

"I'm fine, I just… Well I have something to tell you and I have no idea how to go about it." I started, hoping to stall long enough for inspiration to strike me so I wouldn't babble like an idiot.

Arya and Meera relaxed a little, and matching looks of curiosity and amusement crossed their features, possibly due to my obvious awkwardness.

"Okay, what is it you have to tell us?" Meera urged when I didn't say anything for a little while.

"I can shoot." I blurted out. Their matching looks of curiosity turned to surprise. Not at what I said, most likely. Just the way I said it.

"You can shoot? As in, you know how to use a bow and arrow?" Arya enquired. I nodded frantically, hoping she would ask questions and take away the need for me to babble a long explanation. Short answers suit me better at times like this.

"How?" She asked. **Yes! She was asking questions! Okay, now to answer them!**

"I train at Starfall. Without my family knowing. I have done for the last eight years." I said quickly. Their looks of surprise grew, and smiles appeared on their faces.

"You taught yourself to shoot?" Meera asked this time.

"Yes, I did. I took a spare training bow and quiver of arrows from Starfall's armoury. I trained in my father's orchards. My family doesn't know. And they can never know." I answered, hoping the last bit got through to them clearly. A look of understanding came into Arya's eyes.

"They don't approve of you using weapons." She stated. I nodded, even though it wasn't a question.

"Alright, but you are allowed to train with us, Alianor. Your mother had to give you her blessing, remember?" Meera said, confused at why I looked so worried.

"I know that, it's just…" I was at a loss for how to put it. I couldn't remember the words I used when I explained it to Orla, and even then, she understands what I'm saying even when I don't understand it properly myself. Meera hadn't known me long enough to learn that skill yet. So I turned to Orla, hoping she could explain for me.

She could.

"Lady Alianor is worried that if she is seen to be able to shoot by the other ladies, then her mother may realise that she has had prior practise at it. But my lady also feels that it would be wrong to play at not knowing how to shoot and make you teach her when you don't have to. My lady feels that would be dishonest and show bad faith when you have been so kind to her." Orla explained.

"Thank you." I smiled at her.

"Any time, Lady." She replied, rolling her eyes at me, a small smile on her face.

I turned back to Meera and Arya, who held understanding looks in their eyes, mixed with slight amusement at the fact that my hand-maid had a better way with words that I did at that moment.

"Well, that's easily remedied, Alianor. We can just say it's a private shooting lesson, have only us in there, and no-one will be any the wiser to your knowledge of archery. Your family never have to know. If you can already shoot, I want to see you shoot properly. We can see who the better marksman is." Arya grinned at me as she spoke. Relief flooded my body. Meera nodded in agreement with Arya.

"Yes, I can't see why you were so scared in the first place. We have already lied for you once. And you aren't hurting anybody, so I can't see why we can't lie for you again. As far as secrets go, that isn't a damaging one. At least, not here at Winterfell. But I can see why you would want to keep it a secret from your family. Not many people are as…liberal, when it comes to allowing women to learn such things as we are. The ways of us up in the North and in Winterfell are probably a world away from what you experience in Starfall and the South." Meera mused. I made a small noise of agreement, and just like that two more people knew the only secret I had worth keeping.

It wasn't as terrifying as I thought it would be.

"Well, now that that's out of the way, we should get started with the actual archery." Meera beamed, turning on her heel and opening the doors they were standing by.

I followed them into the archery training grounds. It was a closed of arena area, only about twice the size of the area my father held jousting tournaments in, without the seated areas along the sides. More than big enough for what it was needed for, but not so imposing, I was happy to discover. It was much larger than my make-shift training grounds back at Starfall, though.

The high walls and extended canopy that overhang edges of the archery yard meant the only place outside the arena that could see in was the top of the Great Keep. Even then, the canopy would shield the archer themselves from view. There were two doors at either end of the arena, one leading back into the courtyard, the other leading into the outer-most walls of Winterfell, I assumed. High windows let in large shafts of light that kept the arena well lit.

Along the sides near the doors we had come through, there were bows, quivers and arrows lining the walls and held in stands. I watched Meera and Arya walk over to them and pick their weapons, before I went over took the bow and quiver of arrows Meera was holding out to me.

I heard the doors shut behind me, and turned to see nobody but Orla in the arena with us.

I relaxed and started preparing myself to join Arya and Meera, who were already lining up their first shots and taking their places in front of the targets.

I finally walked up beside Meera, who was onto her third arrow of the day. I looked at her target and noted that every arrow had hit dead centre, making a neat little bunch in the middle.

I looked to Arya's target to see only two arrows so far, but they both copied Meera's little bunch at the centre. Both women were obviously phenomenal archers.

**Oh boy…**

I knew I wasn't a bad archer or anything like that. In fact, I could probably re-create the same shots as Meera and Arya. But I had never shot in front of a human who wasn't Orla before. And like most things, whenever you try to do something in front of someone else, no matter how well you can do it on your own; you will no doubt mess up.

At least, that was my experience.

Nevertheless, I notched my arrow onto the taut string of my bow; two fingers hooked around the string holding it in place as I raised my arms and pulled back my right arm. I turned myself ever so slightly to the right so my front was facing Meera. My head turned left, looking down my extended arm on the same side. I focused on the target to the left of hers, and narrowed my eyes, staring at the centre of the target.

**Deep breaths…**

**A little higher…**

**Pull back on the arrow a bit more…**

**Relax shoulders…**

**Deep breaths…**

**Release.**

I loosed the arrow and winced slightly as I heard the almost immediate thud that followed as it hit my target. My eyes were closed. I was slightly scared to open them. A short laugh to my right from Meera made me open them. She was looking at the target in faintly surprised delight, as was Arya. I looked to my target to see just how badly I had shot.

**The black! The black! You got it right in the middle of the black! You didn't fail! **

I looked in disbelief at the target; my arrow was lodged right in the centre of the black mark on the white cloth in the centre.

"Huh, so you really can shoot. I have to say, a small part of me didn't quite believe it. You seemed so gentle." Meera said, the surprised delight from her expression clearer in her voice. I threw her a small glare, but my badly suppressed grin was obvious.

We spent another few hours shooting at the targets, alternating between small contests with no real prizes, and collecting our arrows. After a while we changed to throwing knives, which Arya was admittedly the best, with Meera her following closely in terms of skill. I wasn't all that bad at them, but I missed a little bit more often than they did (Arya never missed at all). Not enough to feel embarrassed, but enough to know I needed more practise.** Which I'll be able to do here at Winterfell! **My mind cheered happily.

Eventually, we stopped for lunch, Arya and Meera leading me to the castle kitchens to grab something to eat. None of us felt like going through the hassle of returning to out chambers to eat and then meet up again, so we sat and ate in the kitchens; maids, cooks and servants bustling around us, preparing the food for dinner that evening. A slow cooking pig was on the giant fire at the opposite end of the room, giving off the most wonderful aroma of herbs and spices.

When we finished, we were just about to head out to start on some sword-fighting, when a servant ran up to us.

"Lady Arya, your daughter is… well, she's on the roof." He blurted out, turning and pointing at one of the roofs behind him. We saw nothing for a moment, before a tiny little head crested the slates. The rest of Anna's body soon followed as she walked with surprising ease along the rooftop. She seemed to be looking around, surveying the area from her vantage point high above. She finally saw us, watching her.

She waved at her mother and the rest of us with her usual enthusiasm.

"Dear Gods, I swear, she acts more like Bran every day…" Arya muttered, a deep sigh following her statement.

She turned to us and rolled her eyes.

"Sorry, one moment." Then she turned back to where Anna was a walked a couple steps closer.

"Liana Stark, you come down from there right now!" Arya yelled, her voice echoing around the courtyard.

"But mama!..." Anna started to protest, but Arya cut her off.

"I mean it! Don't make me come up there and bring you down myself! You know I will!" She yelled back. We could hear Anna's frustrated grunt from down in the courtyard as she slid down the side of the roof facing us, and then quickly scaled down the rock wall to the ground. Her head hung slightly down as she came and stood before her mother.

"Honestly, you know how I feel about you climbing, Anna." Arya sighed, a mix of exasperation and worry in her voice.

"I know, mama. But it's so fun! And Uncle Bran said he used to climb all the time when he was younger." Anna mumbled the last bit, just loud enough for us to hear.

"And when did he tell you this?" Arya asked, looking a little surprised.

"A few minutes ago, when I climbed past his window." Anna replied, her head shooting up, and proud grin in place. Arya's eyes widened a little and she looked up at row of windows fairly high up on the Great Keep.

I assumed one of them was Bran's window. I have to admit, I was impressed. It didn't look like an easy climb.

"He said that as long as I only went that high, and I stayed around the Great Keep and the Great Hall only, he didn't mind." Anna beamed.

"Did he now." Arya said, her lips slightly pursed, but I saw a glimmer of amusement flash in her eyes.

"U-huh! He said I was almost as good at climbing as he was. He said I needed to work on using my arms and hands more, since I was using my knees too much." A quick glance down at the dirt marks on her dress around where her knees would be supported this claim.

"Well, it's…kind of your uncle to help you with your climbing, Anna. I'll have to talk to him myself and see if he as anything to tell me about it." Arya said, her tone implying that climbing techniques may not be the exact topic of any conversation between her and her brother.

Anna didn't seem to catch her mother's meaning, as her response showed.

"I'm sure Uncle Bran would be happy to tell you how to climb properly too, mama." She said sympathetic voice, her sincerity making it even more amusing.

"I'm sure he would too. But right now, you have to go get changed. Auntie Sansa wanted to spend the afternoon with you, and you know how she gets when you get all messy." Arya and her daughter both rolled their eyes at the same time, their similarities becoming apparent during the shared mannerism.

Whilst her looks seemed to favour her father and mother equally, Anna acted more like her mother. And apparently her uncle too.

Anna nodded her head solemnly and scuffed the ground with her foot. Arya bent down to her daughter and gave her an all-consuming hug before letting the worried servant from before lead her away to Osha, who I noticed was standing in a doorway near us, watching the exchange.

Once Anna saw her too, she broke away from the servant and sprinted the rest of the distance to her.

On reaching the doorway, Anna spun around and waved with her whole arm to us.

"Bye Ally, bye Meera, bye mama!" She yelled, before disappearing past Osha's long skirts and into the darkened room behind her. Osha looked from Anna to me, making eye contact for a brief moment, before turning slowly and following the small child that had just swept past her.

Arya let out a small laugh, watching her child run, then walked back to us, an apologetic smile on her face.

"Sorry about that. She's got the most troublesome mix of Stark traits in her. She's like Bran and I when we were younger, always getting into trouble and never doing as she's told. Then she has all the stubbornness of her father, to match. I can only hope William takes after Gendry in every other way but that instead. At least then I'll be able to control one of my children." Arya despaired jokingly.

We walked back over to the doors back into the archery grounds, deciding that we could use it for sword-practise too.

The rest of the day was spent clashing swords and Arya teaching my little bits about the Braavosi water dancer style of sword fighting.

I eventually decided that I would never be anywhere near graceful enough to take on Arya in a duel any time soon, but in the way of traditional sword fighting, I could hold my own well enough. Winterfell had a collection of lighter longswords that Arya and Meera trained with that weren't quite as cumbersome as the longer, heavier longswords the Guards of Winterfell used. They were a lot easier to use than my old practise sword back at Starfall, so I seemed pretty proficient as we trained.

Finally, after we were all exhausted from the near constant fighting, we decided to call it a day. A blur of goodbyes and hugs were exchanged between us all, before we went our separate ways to pass the time before dinner.

Orla led me away to my room to wash up and dress, letting me lie on the bed afterwards and read, until a servant came knocking to tell us dinner was being served soon. The usual escort from my father's guard walked a few steps behind Orla and I as we made our way to the Great Hall.

I took my usual seat next to Meera and we spent the evening eating and talking quietly. An urge to be alone for a while came over me some time during dessert, so I made the excuse that I was tired from the days training, and left soon after we had finished eating and made my way out of the Great Hall. There was dancing that evening, so I knew my family would be bust mingling with the other guests of Winterfell till late that night. Thankfully, nobody but Meera seemed to notice my actual departure enough to make a scene of it. She wished me a good night and disappeared into the crowd, resurfacing on the other side near her brother and a group of Starks, Bran most likely somewhere among them.

I didn't take the main doors out of the Great Hall, opting for the more discreet side doors that led directly outside as well, not into the maze of hallways that led to the Great Keep. I hoped to avoid anyone else who decided to venture outside, by not using the main doors to get outdoors.

The sun had set early today, and as I breathed in the fresh night air, I looked around at my dimply lit surroundings. I was strangely quiet outside, given the amount of noise and music inside the Great Hall. Only a small amount of that noise escaped the thick walls into the courtyard. It was calm and peaceful. I heard a sound behind me, as the door I had just come out of opened and closed again.

"Lady, did you want to return to your chambers yet?" Orla asked, walking closer to me.

"No, I just want to walk outside for a while. You can do as you like for tonight, Orla. Stay and dance, or have an early night yourself, if you wish. I can make my way back to my chambers on my own just fine, and my mother will be too drunk to notice anything soon enough anyway." I reply, taking a few steps away from her.

Orla nods, looking slightly unsure about leaving me on my own, probably, but she does as I say and walks back to the Great Hall and goes back inside, a small shaft of yellowed light appearing and disappearing on the ground as she does so.

The thud of the door tells me I'm finally alone and I walk across the small courtyard and through the small stone arches into the larger courtyard outside the Great Hall and archery grounds. I could no longer see or hear the Great Hall, leaving me with complete silence. The courtyard had been abandoned for the night, the servants and the rest of the garrison and household that usually frequented it were all gone, most likely into the Great Hall to eat and have a nice time.

I was there alone, just wandering around, looking at anything that caught my attention.

So far, that included the stars, the moon, the Bell Tower, a discarded strip of iron on the ground near the forges, and the doors to the Godswood.

I stood still, in the middle of the courtyard and looked right up at the sky, feeling slightly dizzy in the way you do when you watch stars for an extended amount of time.

"I saw you leave." A voice came from behind me.

I span around in surprise, tilting slightly off balance as I moved too quickly. When I regained my balance, I saw Bran was standing a few feet away from me, leaning lightly on his cane.

His hair and the long fur of his cloak were whipping gently around his face and neck with the light breeze that was flowing through the courtyard. His eyes looked dark in the dim lighting, a tiny fleck of light from the moon giving them a small sparkle. The right-hand corner of his mouth was turned up slightly in a half-smile.

I realised I was staring at him for just a second to long, so I quickly nodded.

"Yeah…I mean, yes, I did." I managed to get out, feeling strangely nervous all of a sudden. I had no idea why I felt so awkward at that moment. It wasn't like I had never been alone with him. He had seen me stare at things too. And he had talked to me when it was dark before as well. Nothing about our current situation was entirely unique.

But he just kept on looking at me, half-smile in place. The look in his eyes from the dinner last night was still there, only not as intense. It was competing with another look. This one was just as indescribable too. I was beginning to get the feeling that his looks _were _describable, I just wasn't on the receiving end of looks from tall, handsome kings all that often to be able to describe them. Nobody is so…_something_ that they can have so many enigmatic looks.

**Dear gods, I am analysing Bran's eyes way too much. And I really needed to find more words to describe Bran.**

_You don't say. _My mind drawled sarcastically.

**Shut up, nobody asked for your opinion. **I snapped back.

_I'm your mind, your opinion is my opinion. _It replied. Or, I replied. To myself.

**If you're my mind, why are you so insanely annoying and horrible to me? **I asked my mind, annoyed that it was chiming in on my thoughts.

_I don't know, I only know what you know. If you ask me a question, I can't answer it unless you know the answer already. _My mind answered smugly.

…**Shut up. **And it did.

I sighed deeply aloud. Bran raised an eyebrow, hearing it.

"I can leave, if you wanted to be alone. Did you want to be alone?" He asked, making as if to leave, his face not giving away many emotions. Gods, where did the easier-to-read Bran from yesterday go? He didn't make me feel so…funny.

"Yes! I mean, no! I mean, well, I wanted to be alone…But you can stay if you…wanted…to…" I took a deep breath and collected words together to make a more articulate sentence. "You can stay if it pleases you, my King. I was just taking a walk outside to clear my head." I finally managed, sounding a lot more composed and calm than I felt on the inside.

"My King? I thought we were passed that? What happened to Bran?" Bran asked, an emotion I could read finally emerging onto his face. Confusion.

**Ha! How'd you like it, Bran?! Huh? **My mind yelled. I felt guilty immediately after. He probably didn't mean to confuse me.

"We were! We are! I just wasn't sure, since…you've been… with the eyes…and looking…Yeah. Hello, Bran?" My shoulders slumped as I trailed off, my half-hearted greeting coming out more as a question than the decent end to my mangled sentence that I'd hoped for. **So much for composed and calm.**

"Hello, Alianor." Bran grinned, confusion gone, replaced with relief and happiness. **More recognisable emotions! You're on a role, Bran! Keep it up.**

He took a few steps towards me, close enough to touch. But that would have been a strange thing to do. So I just stood there and looked at him, trying to think of something to say. He beat me too it.

"I'm sorry I surprised you just then. I saw you leave dinner with your hand-maid and she returned alone. I was…worried." He said.

"Oh. Well, I'm alright. I was just feeling a little crowded in there. Winterfell is one of the larger places I've visited with my family, and I suppose I'm not used to being around people all the time." I replied.

"It's quieter in Starfall, then?" Bran asked, coming even closer. I turned myself sideways a little, so I wouldn't be facing him directly. He mirrored my stance, creating a wide V, facing the heavy oak doors to the Godswood in doing so. I was still looking at his face though, as he was mine. I nodded a little.

"Yes. Once my sisters left, when there were no guests staying with us, I could go for days without seeing anybody but Orla and the cook."

Bran raised both his eyebrows at this information.

"Didn't you get lonely?" He asked. I shook my head and smiled.

"Not at all. I read a lot, spoke with Orla even more, and I have other little hobbies that I indulge in. I'm often alone, but never lonely." I told him. He nodded slowly, his eyebrows lowering as he absorbed this new knowledge about me.

"Orla?" He asked.

"My hand-maid." I clarified for him.

"I see. And, what were you going to be doing out here whilst you cleared your head? I can't imagine you'd be standing in the middle of the courtyard the entire time." He enquired.

"Well, I didn't think there was much else I could do. Going outside the walls would be stupid at this time of the night. I didn't want to get locked out, should they decide to close the gates. I wanted to stay outside, but I didn't want to go somewhere I wasn't familiar with. That leaves me here. In the courtyard. Standing in the middle." I finished with a shrug.

"Well, in that case, why don't you come with me into the Godswood again. I have something else I can show you, if you want. If you want to be alone, though, I understand. I can leave if..." Bran suddenly look slightly worried, as though he might be upsetting me.

"I don't mind." I replied quickly, finding that I truly _didn't_ want to be alone, if the alternative was getting to spend time with Bran. Talking to him was quickly becoming one of my favourite things to do in Winterfell. I sent him my own half smile, to show him I meant it.

Bran nodded once and returned the smile, a small dimple appearing in his left cheek as he did so.

"In that case," He held up his arm for me to take, which I did, "come with me." He finished, his smile turning into a full grin, as he started walking towards the oak doors before us, bringing me with him.

* * *

Chapter 7, complete! Whew, this one is longer than the others, but yeah. S'done now! :P The next chapter may take a little longer cause my life is gonna be going all sorts of crazy for the next few days. But I'll do my best. :D Hope you like the story so far, feel free to comment, critique and correct as you wish in the reviews. I take everything on board that you guys say and try to work with it if I can. :) Thank you to every person who has stuck with the story this far and another thanks to those who have taken the time to review.

XO and DFTBA,

Jennifer


	9. Thoughts from Places

Chapter 8: Thoughts from Places

Our walk in the Godswood felt worlds away from the last one. With no-one else following us, and no-one knowing we were ever in here, Bran and I knew we wouldn't be disrupted. We walked slower than last time, leaving the path immediately, taking our time to get to wherever Bran was taking me. This time around I could appreciate more than just the green of the sunlit canopy as I had done during our last walk.

The moon made everything grow with a strange, muted light, with no exact source for it. The sun had shown clear rays of light that shot down through the tiniest gaps between leaves when we were here during the day. But at night, the weaker light of the moon could only illuminate so much, leaving pale light in some places, but total darkness in others.

I also noticed that the Godswood smelt different at night. Yesterday, it had had an earthy smell, nothing too noticeable, just like any other wood I had been in. But there had been a dead wind yesterday. Tonight, the light breeze left fallen leaves rustling gently around us, and the smell of decaying trees surrounded us. It was a strangely sweet smell, faintly damp, but altogether pleasant. The trees would shelter us from any truly cold winds that may have swept through Winterfell as the night grew colder. Not that Bran would need it, since he had a cloak on. I, however, had not had the foresight to bring one.

"So, what is it you're going to be showing me?" I asked, breaking the comfortable silence we had been walking in for the past few minutes.

"You'll see, there's no fun in telling you straight away." Bran replied, a smile in his voice, though I couldn't see his face given that he was leading me behind him. I contemplated speeding up to walk beside him, then decided not to, after spotting the numerous roots and rocks on the ground that would not doubt trip me up. I didn't feel like embarrassing myself tonight.

"Well, in that case, what _can_ you tell me?" I asked instead. I just wanted him to talk.

"What would my lady like me to tell her?" Bran turned his head to look at me, his face a mask void of emotion. But his eyes held that familiar glimmer. I narrowed my eyes slightly.

"That defeats the point of my question. I want you to tell me something I don't know already. If I was able to ask you to tell me something, I would already know about it. Wouldn't I? " I answered, but Bran just raised an eyebrow. Then the corner of his mouth twitched slightly.

"Would you?" He said simply, pausing slightly to let me join him by his side. Now he didn't have to turn around to see me.

Gods, he was being difficult on purpose, I just knew it…

"I would. I want to know about _your_ Winterfell." I stated.

"_My_ Winterfell? My Winterfell is the same as anybody else's. It has a large keep. It has stables. It has a very old Godswood-" Bran started, until I cut him off.

"If I asked you how old the Godswood at Winterfell is, I would already know the answer. If I asked you about the lands that surround Winterfell, I would already know the answers. If I asked you why Winterfell is so much warmer than other Northern castles, even though I've never stayed in any others, I would already know the answer.

The things I know about Winterfell are the things I have been taught, I have read, or have heard through gossip from my mother and her ladies. I know what anyone outside of Winterfell could know. All of that stuff is impersonal and, ultimately, irrelevant." I took a deep breath and decided how to get my point across quicker.

"Who truly cares how the rooms of Winterfell are heated, when I want to know what your favourite room _is_? I don't want facts and history lessons. I've already heard them. I want stories. The ones only you would be able to tell me." I finished, letting out a breath and holding the one that followed, hoping he understood me and didn't just think I was acting like a spoilt child demanding a bed-time story.

I was telling him I wanted to get to know him properly. If I had misjudged where I stood with him, he could think I was being nosy and prying where I shouldn't be.

Bran suddenly stopped walking and turned to me fully. The emotionless mask dropped and was replaced with his usual small, indecipherable one and he stopped. He took a step closer to me and lent his cane against a tree beside us. He placed his hands on my upper arms, his body and face only inches away from mine and looked me dead in the eyes.

"You truly are something else, Alianor. And I'd be happy to tell you whatever you wish to know. But first," His voice dropped to a whisper as he leaned closer, close enough that I could feel his warm breath as he spoke. "I need you to close your eyes for a minute and trust me. Can you do that for me?" He asked. I tilted my head, slightly confused, but did as he said.

My eyes closed and I fought the urge to open them again to see what he was going to do. I felt him turn my body around to face somewhere off to our right. I only knew there was a wall of trees that direction, gaps just big enough for a man to pass through separating them. As we hadn't followed a path right from the start of our walk, I had no idea where we were in the Godswood. He directed me about five steps forward, the only noise I could hear was the sound of my footsteps and Bran's. Bran tightened his grip on my arms from his place behind me and I stopped. I felt his breath tickle my left ear as he leant down and whispered…

"Open your eyes."

I did, and my mouth dropped open and a tiny gasp fell from my lips. I heard Bran back away a few steps as I looked out at the scene before me.

In front of me was a stunning clearing. The one we had visited with the direwolves was beautiful, but this place looked like something from a painting.

A small pool was in the centre, much smaller than the one in the direwolves' clearing. This one was surrounded by small rocks, coloured dark green by moss. Little white flowers dotted the ground. Lacking a weirwood, there was no red in the clearing, leaving it uninterrupted pale green, white and light brown in colour. The trees finally broke above the clearing, framing it in dark shadows and delicate leaf borders. The lack of canopy here let the moon shine down on it fully, a mirror image of the sky reflected into the pool.

It looked like there were tiny spots of light in the pool itself, and I watched the slow dance of infinite stars as they twinkled there on the black glass surface of the water.

The slight crunch of Bran's familiar uneven footsteps as he walked back to me from retrieving his cane came from behind me, brought me out of my reverie. He stood by my left. I would have said something to him, but I didn't want to be the one to break the final bit of magic silence brought to this place. It seems that Bran felt the same, as he just took my hand gently and brought me over to a small patch of ground near the pool that held few flowers, but some sort of dry moss that we could sit on. A tingling feeling shot through my hand and arm as he did so. The moss was soft and spongy as I sank down onto it, crossing my legs beneath my skirts as I did so, Bran letting go of my hand as he sat down beside me, laying his cane on the ground.

We sat in that clearing for some time (when nothing moves or changes but the flicker of leaves in wind, it's quite hard to keep track of time, so it could have been minutes or hours, to be truthful).

Finally, Bran broke the silence which hang around us.

"I come here when I need to think." He said simply. "I used to go to the clearing where Summer is now, but I felt I lost that when his mate arrived. It didn't feel like mine anymore. I couldn't think as clearly."

I stayed silent, taking this in. I was unsure how to respond, so I hoped he would read my silence as a cue to go on. Thankfully, he did.

"I went there to think a few days after she arrived, to clear my head. She did nothing but watch me from a distance, but even that distracted me. So I left and walked further into the woods. Every bit of this place is mapped in Winterfell's archives, but no-one ever ventures to this part anymore. The Glass Garden is far over there," He pointed somewhere to our right, "and the Heart Tree is far behind us," he pointed somewhere behind us, slightly to the left. "They have no need to come here." He spoke slowly, his voice hushed a little.

I found my voice to answer him a minute after he finished speaking.

"Why did you bring _me_ here?" I whispered. He looked at me and tilted his head questioningly. He didn't look hurt, so he hadn't assumed my question stemmed from ungratefulness.

I swallowed and spoke again. "I only mean, if you felt your old place was ruined by something new being there when you were, why have you brought me here? Aren't you worried that…" I stopped talking as Bran's chest and shoulders moved slightly with a small, deep chuckle.

"I'm not worried about you ruining this place." He said, looking me in the eyes. "I'm sharing it with you so that you can use it too. My father used my old place to think before I did. The maester who looked after me as a child died there during the wars. It was never truly mine, and never would be. There was too much history there. The arrival of Summer's mate only made that truth more apparent. Anybody could find it, and use it, not just me."

Bran stopped speaking for a while and looked away from me to stare at the pool. I watched him until he spoke again.

"I brought you here because you're different. You notice things. You say such strange and wonderful things, and you don't seem to think anything of them." He turned back to face me. "This place needs a history of its own, and if I'm the only one who comes here, it won't be a very good one. But if too many people know of it, the history won't matter to me, because I won't care about it in the present anymore. So... you are the perfect person to show it to. You need a place to think sometimes; that much is obvious. You can come here whenever you like, Alianor." Bran finished, his sweet half-smile from earlier back in full force.

"I…I don't know what to say." I replied truthfully. "Thank you." I said sincerely. Bran nodded once quickly, his eyes darting away from my eyes quickly, turning his face away from me as well. I thought I saw a faint blush on his cheeks before he did so, but I could have been mistaken. We sat there quietly once more, for a little while

I spread my legs out a little in front of me, my shoes peeking out from beneath them as I relaxed. I picked up a stone beside me and tossed it into the water. It landed a few inches from the edge of the pond with a small splash. I pulled my foot back as a cold droplet of water landed on a bit of my left foot that my dress and shoe weren't covering entirely.

"It's cold!" I exclaimed. "I thought the pools in the Godswood at Winterfell were all warm. That's how you heat the castle."

"They are. Well, most are. This one is formed from the rain. It's relatively new, as far as I can tell. It only shows up on the newest version of the maps of Winterfell that were created just after the wars." Bran explained. I let out a small "oh," and we lapsed back into silence.

A strong breeze blew through the clearing suddenly, the lack of trees in the secluded area meaning we were no longer sheltered as we were in the wood itself. My lack of a cloak became apparent as the icy Northern wind tousled my hair and made my dress flutter at the hem. I shivered and wrapped my arms around myself, pulling my knees up to my chest to block as much of the wind as I could. Bran noticed this and frowned.

"You're cold." He stated bluntly. I shook my head, though it was obvious that I was. I didn't want Bran to suggest we leave the clearing just yet. Then a thought occurred to me.

"Aren't you meant to be at the feast entertaining guests?" My mouth blurted out before my mind could catch up and stop it. Bran's look of concern turned to one of surprise briefly, before he shook his head.

"Don't try and change the topic. You're cold. Here…" He shrugged off his cloak and wrapped it around my shoulders, the heavy furs granting me immediate warmth and protection from the wind that was still blowing (though not as fiercely).

"And to answer your question, no. I'm not meant to be at the feast. I told Sansa that I was tired from trade talks with your father all day and that my leg was hurting, so I could leave early. I couldn't handle being around everyone tonight for some reason." He said, pulling at a part of the cloak's collar so it covered me better. His hand accidentally brushed my face and the tingling feeling from earlier appeared where his skin met mine. I took a hold of the collar myself to keep it in place and huddled inside of it, only my face, hair and hands exposed now.

"Oh, I see." I answered, blushing slightly. "Good." I saw Bran's lips quirk into a pleased smirk at the last bit out of the corner of my eye.

"Oh shut up." I said, nudging him with my elbow. He laughed and placed a hand on his chest in mock surprise.

"I said nothing, my lady. What could I have done to offend you so?" He asked, his eyes wide and feigning innocence.

"You were smirking." I stated indignantly, a playful scowl on my face. "I don't like _smirkers_."

"I am no _'smirker'_, my lady; you must have me mistaken for someone else. Perhaps _another _tall, dashing, incredibly handsome King you know?" He asked. It was my turn to laugh aloud, the noise ricocheting around the empty clearing.

"Of course, silly me." I said, rolling my eyes, and then letting out another small giggle. It was Bran's turn to nudge me, joining in my laughter with that deep chuckle of his.

Once we had quietened down, I noticed we had moved a bit closer whilst we had been laughing. Bran's shoulder was now brushing mine as he said quietly,

"I _am_ glad you are enjoying my company, though, Alianor. Truly."

"I can only hope you're enjoying mine as well, Bran." I mumbled my reply with an almost imperceptible shrug, staring at my hands that now lay in my lap as a blush attacked my face.

"I am."

My hair had been left loose that night, so thankfully it fell forward as I bent my neck down and obscured Bran's view of my face. I moved away slightly, putting a couple inches between us. **Gods, no other boy has ever done this to you, girl. Pull yourself together! **And yet I continued to blush and hide.

That was, until Bran reached out and moved the pieces covering my face behind me ear, his nimble fingers faintly tracing the edge of my jaw as he did so. His hand lingered on my hair, left hand resting half on my neck, half on the base of my head. I felt a light tickle that led me to believe that he was moving a strand of hair between his fingers as well.

I froze a little, my breath catching in my throat. The area where his hand was felt especially warm, whether from the heat of his hand or the fact that it felt like all the blood in my body rushed to that point at once, I didn't know. It tingled like my hand and face had earlier, whichever the reason.

The warmth disappeared suddenly, a rush of cold air hitting the spot where Bran's hand had been. I missed the feeling immediately and turned to find out why it had gone. I came face to face with a wide-eyed Bran when I did, his hand that had been on my hair still held up between us.

"I'm so sorry, Alianor. That was most improper of me." Bran apologised in a rush. His had dropped to the small space in between us, but he moved back a bit, no doubt trying to give me the space he thought I'd want. I watched him for a second, as I didn't quite know what to do in this situation. Mainly because it was the first time anything even remotely like this had happened. I didn't have much contact with men besides servants and my father. Knights were either too loyal to my father or just more interested in the other women at Starfall to even look at me twice. Even then, many preferred the memories of my sisters to the reality that was me; not that I blamed them.

So I stared at Bran in fascination for a moment, whilst he stared back horror-struck. Then I realised I should probably say something so he doesn't think he just insult or scare me, or whatever he thought he had done by touching me.

"It's alright, Bran. I don't mind." I said, only realising I still felt shy when my voice came out as a tiny squeak. I winced slightly, but then cleared my throat and tried again.

"It's alright, honestly, Bran. I don't mind and you didn't hurt me or anything. As far as touching me goes, it was hardly improper. There is nothing to forgive." I managed to get out, proud of how confident I sounded.

Bran looked at me, a dubious look on his face, as though he were expecting me to suddenly go back on my words, reach over, slap him and storm away. The thought made me giggle, which probably made me look a little bit strange, but I didn't really care.

Instead, I rolled my eyes and reached over to Bran. I then proceeded to gently pat him on the top of his head a couple of times. I sat back down in my place and watched him expectantly. The look of horror fled from his face, replaced with one of shock. His eyebrows were raised high on his brow, and his mouth was slightly ajar.

I tried to copy his past expression of a face void of emotion, but failed miserably. A smirk of my own fixed itself on my mouth as I raised one eyebrow at him.

"Did you…Did you just pet me?" Bran choked, his mouth open, switching between an almost grin and just hanging open. It looked almost comical, as Bran sat there, lost for any further words. Disbelief and amusement filled his eyes.

"U-huh." I nodded once, my hair flipping slightly as I moved my head. I pushed some stray strands out of my eyes as I looked at Bran again. "Now we're even. You touched my hair, I touched yours." I sounded almost Anna-like with my explanation.

"I see. Well…" He cleared his throat, "Okay then. We're even." He grinned at me properly, though disbelief at my boldness was still in his eyes. However, he seemed more impressed than offended by it. He was a king, after all. He probably wasn't too used to being petted like a puppy.

"Good, I…" My words were cut off by an unexpected yawn, my mouth stretching into an 'O'. I covered it with my hand quickly, but it was still a yawn. And yawns meant…

"You're tired." Bran said, as if he were appalled by the fact. He looked me up and down with mock-judgement in his eyes.

"And _you_ are very observant today. '_You're cold…You're tired…_' Can't get anything past you, can I?" I retorted playfully, "_Some_ of us have been playing with bows, arrows, knives and swords all day. Not sitting by a table on comfy chairs. Though talking to my father _is _rather tiring after a while, I must admit." I amended, stretching forward a little after the yawn.

"I'd have to agree with you there. There are only so many times I can debate the value Dornish spices and fruits before I…" He ended the sentence with an exasperated sigh and dramatically dropped his into his hands. He rubbed his hand slowly down his face, a sending me a tired smile. I returned a sympathetic one. I knew how meticulous my father was when it came to business. He would do anything to secure these trade routes.

"Don't worry, only a couple more weeks and everything will be sorted out and you can relax." I comforted him.

"I suppose…" Bran said. I didn't know what else to say, so just stared at the pond like Bran was doing. And yawned again.

"Alright, that's it. You are obviously tired, come on." Bran laughed, getting up and offering me a hand up. I thought about protesting, but I felt another yawn bubbling up before I could, so I accepted his hand and got up instead. The tingling feeling appeared once more.

I let go of his hand to brush off my skirts, noting the tiny green smudges the moss had caused, but on the whole I don't think Orla had anything to truly despair over.

I smoothed my skirt back into their usual positions and took the arm Bran was holding out for me. He led me from the clearing, back into the woods. Along the way back to the door we had used to enter the Godswood, Bran showed me markers I could follow to make my way back to the clearing. I made a mental note of all of them, and hoped I would remember them all.

We finally made it back to the main courtyard, a fair bit of time later (we took our time walking, since there was no real rush. I didn't _feel_ especially tired, I was only yawning a lot. I told Bran this, but he just gave me the same look Orla gives me when I try to lie to her. The one that clearly reads "I'm never going to believe you, so don't even try me…" Orla never believes me; though after my first conversation with Arya, I don't think it's because she has some uncanny ability to spot lies anymore).

"You don't have to escort me back to my rooms, you know. I can find my own way back, if you wanted to leave." I said to Bran, not talking too loudly so as not to waken anybody up. We had been in the Godswood a fairly long while, it seemed. Bran looked down at me sharply, giving me a horrified look.

"Absolutely not!" He exclaimed in whisper "I already left you the other day in the Godswood, and even then, you had Orla with you." He admonished softly. "There is no way I'm going to let you walk back to your chambers at night. Besides, Winterfell is safe enough; but I don't trust you walking up our stairs alone." He finished, a wolfish grin appearing at the last second. I let out an indignant gasp and lightly slapped him on the arm. He absentmindedly rubbed it, laughing quietly.

"I'm not that clumsy…" I mumbled, crossing my arms beneath his cloak.

"Not entirely… But I don't want to risk it. I would never forgive myself." Bran relented, grin still in place, though.

"Okay, fine. You can escort me back to my chambers. But I will see this as you doing me a favour. So I will have to repay you eventually." I said, straightening up to my full height (still a lot shorter than Bran, but it was the best I could do) to show I was serious. I stuck my hand out from his cloak.

"Deal?" I said. Bran shook his head a little, laughing, but shook my hand nonetheless. My hand tingled at the contact like before.

"Deal." He replied. He released my hand and gestured to the Guest House. "Lead the way, my lady." He smirked, happy that he had sort of won this…dispute? Debate? I don't know what it was exactly, but he obviously felt he had won it. I huffed at the "my lady," bit, but did as he said and walked off in the direction of the Guest House. Bran kept up with me, walking by my side the entire way, only falling behind to let me enter the building first and walk up the narrow staircases to the floor where my chambers were.

Once we got to my doors, I turned around to face him, my back against the heavy oak.

"So…" I began, feeling awkward and not knowing how exactly to say goodbye. A massive part of me wanted to stay and continue talking with Bran. But another part of me wanted to leave and dive face first into my bed. Internal battles aside, I just wasn't sure what to do.

"So…" Bran replied, unhelpfully, an easy smile in place as he looked at me.

"I have no idea what to say." I said.

"That could be problematic." Bran replied, still being unhelpful. The all too familiar glimmer in his eyes told me he was well aware of this. **Stupid Bran. **The childish part of my brain said, a mental pout in place.

"Do you have any ideas?" I asked, hoping he would jump into action and save me from my own awkwardness.

"I have a couple." He answered, fiddling with his cane as he spoke, but looking at me steadily. He said nothing else after that.

"Care to share them with me?" I pressed, knowing that he was just teasing me now.

"I could, but then I wouldn't get to see you blush again. I have a feeling one is on the way." He stated, the glimmer flashing at full power and the corner of his smile twitching, as if to stretch to a grin any second.

"Why you…" I choked out indignantly. Sure enough, his words triggered a blush, which spread across my cheeks like wild fire. Which triggered his smile to turn into a grin.

"There it is!" He beamed at me.

I took a deep breath and tried to dispel the blush as fast as I could.

"Since when does the kind King Bran decide that tormenting young Southron ladies into blushing is his new favourite pastime?" I asked jokingly, fighting the urges to both smile and kick Bran in the shin. I wasn't angry at him at all, or even irritated. I was only a little embarrassed that he had realised he had such easy influence over making me blush. It was purely a defensive urge, the kicking. The smiling was because it was lovely to see him enjoying himself.

"Since he realised how beautiful this Southron lady looks when she blushes. Which, truth be told, was that first time in the courtyard when you arrived." Bran replied, taking a step towards me, leaving only inches between us. "As for when I decided to actually indulge in this pastime; the first time was only a few moments ago. Anything before that was an accident, I promise." He said, looking down at me and taking another small step closer. Even less room between us now.

My mouth was suddenly very dry. Bran didn't break eye contact with me, staring right into my eyes.

"I…You..." Dry mouths and talking really don't go well together. I shut my mouth and swallowed a couple of times before I felt I could actually speak, dry mouth now gone.

"You think I'm beautiful?" I finally got out.

"Yes." Bran said. He didn't move any closer for a moment, and neither did I. But I couldn't drag my eyes away from his. He took a final small step forward and was now only a hairs-breadth away. I had to tilt my head almost right back to maintain eye contact with him, and he had to do the reverse to look down at me.

I could feel the warmth of his body radiating close to mine. His proximity to me had me feeling slightly disoriented, like I'd drunk too much sweet wine. I held my breath, fairly certain what was coming next.

"Alianor…" He leaned his face down closer to mine… I closed my eyes and my lips parted ever so slightly. I raised myself up a little onto my tiptoes.

Then the door opened behind me and I stumbled back a few steps. My eyes shot open and I caught my balance again. I saw Bran had reeled back a bit as well at the sudden intrusion.

"Hello Lady, hello my King." Orla said brightly. "Did you enjoy your walk with King Bran, Lady?" She asked me, looking between Bran and I. I was slightly speechless from the sudden change of situation, but I nodded mutely in response.

"Wonderful. I have some rose-water ready for you to wash with before bed, Lady." Orla smiled warmly, bustling about the room as she spoke.

"You'll be wanting to give King Bran his cloak back for when he returns to his chambers, Lady." Orla noted. I looked to Bran, who had a dazed look on his face that I no doubt mirrored.

I suddenly realised what she had said and jumped into action. The daze from before snapped into clarity.

"Of course, um, here you go Bran." I quickly removed his cloak and thrust my arm out at him, the furs clasped firmly in my hand. It seems Bran had had the same shock of clarity, as he cleared his throat and took a step forward. He took the cloak from me and folded it haphazardly over his arm. Any trace of the previous moment was gone from his face and eyes, replaced with the same relaxed expression he had had when we were walking back from the clearing in the Godswood.

"Thank you, Alianor." He said, realising formalities weren't needed in front of Orla, since I had forgotten to use them too.

"I must bid you a good night. I hope to see you tomorrow?" He asked.

"If you have the time after talks with my father, of course!" I replied happily.

"He will, Lady. One of your mother's hand-maids came by after dinner to inform you that your mother and father will be leaving to visit Lord Larence and his wife at Hornwood for a few days. They were invited at dinner this evening after King Bran left" She sent a look to Bran, "and think it rude to refuse. Your mother says you are to stay at Winterfell with Lady Sansa and Lady Arya whilst she is gone. They leave tomorrow morning after breakfast." She then turned to Bran fully and said, "They also say they are sorry they couldn't tell you sooner in person, my King. But Lady Sansa assured them that you would be fine with them leaving for a short amount of time." Orla threw into the conversation. Bran seemed to be under the spell of Orla that most humans fell under, and nodded.

"Of course, a break from talks would do us all good, I suppose." Bran said to himself more than us, his shoulders slumping a little as he thought about something for a moment.

"Quite." Orla agreed briskly. I could tell from her tone that she wanted Bran to leave. I knew she didn't have any personal problem with Bran, but our conversation from a couple days ago rang clear in my mind. She _had _seen the almost… Yes. I think this was her alternative to slaying Bran on the spot.

Bran seemed to pick up on her feelings, like he always did with mine and straightened up again.

"Goodnight, Alianor." He said, moving a couple of steps forward and taking my hand. Bringing it up to his face part way and leaning down the rest, he placed a gentle kiss on it and let it go.

I bobbed a small, safe curtsy, "Goodnight, Bran. See you tomorrow." I grinned at him.

"See you tomorrow." He said back. "Goodnight, Orla." He smiled at her. She sent back a tight-lipped, but genuine smile in return and curtsied gracefully.

"Goodnight, my King. Thank you for bringing my Lady back safely." She said.

"It was no trouble." He replied, and turned to leave. We both watched as he walked out of the door, stooping slightly to exit the stone doorway. Orla and I had no trouble with it, but anyone over a certain height certainly would.

Once outside my chambers, Bran turned and sent me one last smile and a small wave, before walking off down the hallway. I listened until I could no longer hear his footsteps or the tap of his cane.

Orla went and shut the door, before ushering me over to the basin and helped me finish my routine wash and change into a nightdress. When I was finally in bed, she came and sat on the edge of it.

"I'm sorry I had to interrupt you like that, Lady." She said sincerely.

"It's alright. I mean, nothing happened." I half lied. I did forgive her, but something _had_ been happening.

"I just don't want you to rush into anything and get yourself hurt. We've only been here less than three days. You can break as many bowls and pots as you want, destroy every dress you ever wear, I'll always clear it all up. But I'll be damned if I'm letting you so much as scratch your heart, Lady. I can't do anything to fix that." She said, looking at me softly again. It seemed Winterfell was bringing out Orla's gentler side; that was the second time in so many days she'd gone soft on me. Not that I'm complaining. Soft Orla is just as nice as Tough-Love Orla.

"Don't worry. I just got caught up in the moment, it won't happen again. Not that I'll ever get another chance _anything _like it again, but I'll do my best to take whatever this is with Bran slow." I promised her.

"Good." She said, her face returning to Tough-Love Orla again. "Now, get to sleep, Lady. You'll no doubt have a full day of gallivanting with King Bran tomorrow, and you'll need all your energy for that." She joked, before snuffing out my bedside candle before I could roll my eyes at her, plunging to room darkness, save for the crack of light at the bottom of the door connecting our chambers. She opened the door to her room, illuminating her face a final time.

"Goodnight, Lady."

"Goodnight, Orla."

Then she walked through it and shut the door, and everything went dark once more.

* * *

A full chapter of Bran. Hope ya liked it! And I know, I'm evil. I'm sorry... (Meanwhile, _inside_ my head: Mwahahahahahahahaha...) So yeah, Chapter 8, complete. Now, for the next couple of days, I won't have to time to write a lot, so Chapter 9 will be a bit longer coming. Can't say how long exactly*, since I don't know when I'll get good wifi in the short term so I can post, but I'll do my best. If I can't upload for that time, please don't give up on me (or the story). :P Comment, critique, correct in the reviews if you want to. :D

XO and DFTBA

Jennifer

*Don't panic. I'm not talking months or anything. Think a few days/a week or two, at most. I'll be writing, I just may not be able to upload for that time.

Side Note: The title of this chapter is credited to two of my favourite humans ever, Hank and John Green (The 'vlogbrothers' on YouTube).

**A final side note:** A friend of mine on FanFiction, SweetImagination15 asked if she could borrow Alianor, Anna and Lady Maudeleyn for a one-shot, based off of EHW. I said sure, and she's written a brilliant 'parallel-universe style one-shot' with them, separate to my story. So, if you want to read something wonderful with Bran and Alianor, whilst you wait until they finally make moves in my story, I'd recommend you check hers out. It's called Attacked By A Wolf. :D


	10. Early Sunrises Over Winterfell

Chapter 9: Early Sunrises Over Winterfell

The next morning I was up and ready with unbelievable speed. I'm sure I would have spent ages thinking about the previous night and my time with Bran if Orla hadn't rushed me around almost constantly from the second I woke up.

The no light burst through the curtains as Orla opened them to drag me from a lovely, deep sleep. Sunrise in the North was a bit earlier on in the day than it was in the South, but it must have been very early for me to have not missed it yet.

I only awoke when I heard Orla pottering about my chambers, getting my things ready with unusual haste. She eventually set upon me, getting me out of bed and at my dresser in no time.

In between bouts of hacking at my hair with a comb and scrubbing my cheeks red with rose water, I tried talking to Orla. My voice broke with sleep the first time around, only a dry croak coming out, as I hadn't spoken yet that morning. I cleared my throat and tried to speak properly.

"Why are we in-" Orla yanked on the comb a little bit too hard through my hair, making my head jerked back and cutting my sentence off half way through. I tried again. "Why are we in such a rush to get me ready, Orla? And so early as well?" I succeeded in asking her.

"A servant of one of the Stark's came by, asking for you to be ready as soon as possible and that someone would be waiting outside of your chambers to lead to where you are meant to be once you were dressed. That's all I was told, Lady, I know about as much as you do. The servant didn't seem to know much either, since they said they got the message off another servant themselves." Orla said briskly, placing the comb down and pulling me up to fix my dress into place.

"Any idea _which_ Stark the servant came from?" I asked, my words slightly strained as Orla pulled on random laces on my gown and fastened the buttons that trailed down the back of it.

"No, Lady. I'd assume King Bran's, since he said last night that he wanted to spend the day with you, but that's just my guess." Orla flashed me a wide grin in the mirror as she let me check for myself if the dress was okay.

I nodded and focused on getting in Orla's way as little as possible as she finished doing various chores around my chambers for me.

"Right, Lady. Everything is done, and _you _must be going." Orla stated finally, straightening up from digging around in one of my chests.

"But…I haven't eaten yet?" I muttered, suddenly realising that I didn't have time for my usual breakfast in my chambers.

"Never mind that, Lady. I'll be coming with you wherever you're going; I have food in my bag if you don't get any wherever we _do_ go. You won't starve." She replied, rolling her eyes at me. I mimicked her and rolled mine back at her, and then made my way to the oak doors that led the way from the room.

I opened it part of the way before my hand slipped of the smooth edge of the door and it slammed shut again. Loudly. I could hear the noise echo outside of my chambers, down the hallway. I let out a small scream, followed by a rather loud curse in surprise as it happened, and then turned around sheepishly to see Orla looking at me blankly.

Almost like she had given up acting surprised herself whenever I did something stupid. She just looked at me for a little while, sighed and approached the door herself.

"Can you honestly do anything without something going wrong?" She chastised in a manner that told me she wasn't actually irritated with me. Orla rarely ever got irritated with me, if I truly though about it. She was wonderful that way. But that didn't mean I couldn't act suitably insulted at her question.

"Of course I can! I can use a bow and arrows well enough. I read without getting paper cuts or breaking the books. I haven't spilled food on myself since I was a child. I-" I started, before Orla interrupted me.

"What about the glass of wine you spilt on yourself the night before we travelled here?" She demanded, grinning.

"That's not food. That's a drink." I stated smugly, a smirk on my lips. She scoffed at my answer, but didn't fight me on it.

"As I was _saying_," I said, "I _can_ do _some_ things without anything going wrong. I just can't do the things other people can do without something going wrong. Sometimes, mind, not all the time." I finished defending myself. But Orla still didn't look convinced.

Not that she ever does, since this wasn't even the first time we had had this discussion. I always seemed to lose it, either way.

"Well, enough fooling around, Lady. Here." She brushed past me and yanked the door open for me, giving me one of her usual eye-rolls. I swear she rolled her eyes a lot more often ever since we came to Winterfell. Or maybe I just did more eye-roll worthy things here than I did back at Starfall.

But we both froze when we saw Lord Jojen standing just outside my doorway, facing us, a look of mild surprise on his face. The situation reminded me faintly of the one Bran had when I opened my door in my night-clothes. Only Lord Jojen didn't give away as many emotions as Bran had. I could hardly make out the surprise as it was. But it _was_ there.

As far as first impressions go, this probably could have been worse, but I can't think of any right now. I could only imagine how much of the past few minutes Lord Jojen had caught. I stared blankly at the tall, sandy-haired man before me for a moment. He did the same. I didn't turn around, but I had a feeling Orla was staring at him too. Nothing moved as we all stared.

Then Lord Jojen blinked.

"I win." I muttered without thinking. Lord Jojen's brow creased in a confused look.

"Excuse me, Lady Alianor? You win?" He asked, an enquiring look coming through.

"Oh Gods, Lady…" I heard Orla mumble behind me. She knew I sometimes said things aloud that I didn't mean to. Right now was one of those occasions. My eyes widened in embarrassment, but thankfully no blush appeared.

"I didn't mean to say that, my lord. My mind was elsewhere. Sorry." I said in short, blunt sentences. I didn't want to say too much and look strange.

"I see. No need to apologise, my lady." Lord Jojen seemed to straighten up after he had spoken, his face back to the serene mask I had seen him wear at our welcome. "King Bran said that he wished for me to escort you to… the place he wishes to meet with you." He faltered on the last bit, as if remembering he wasn't meant to tell me where I was going. Turns out I was right.

"And where is that?" I asked.

"I'm not supposed to tell you. Or anyone, for that matter." He stated evenly. I was about to try and get more information, but decided against it, figuring that if Bran wanted to be mysterious and cryptic for a little while, I'd let him.

"Alright then. Is my hand-maid allowed to come with me?" I stepped fully out of the room, and stood opposite Lord Jojen in the hallway.

"Bran said to only bring you. He said to tell you that 'Orla can take a day of rest if you permit it. She can, of course, come if Alianor insists; but if not, she may know that Alianor will be completely safe with me today.'" Lord Jojen relayed Bran's message to us. I turned to look at Orla, who just shrugged, as if to say "It's up to you, Lady." I could actually hear her voice saying that in my head.

"I think…um… You can take a day of rest if you would like, Orla?" My reply came more as a question. I didn't want Orla to think I was dismissing her just so I could spend time with Bran. I just got the feeling that whatever he wanted to show me was important to him, and he was only giving me the option to make _me_ happy. Orla smiled knowingly at me, her face showing that she knew what I was thinking.

"As you wish, Lady. Would you like the food I packed for you? You still haven't eaten yet." She said, not waiting for an actual answer. She walked back into my room and coming back with a small cloth bag that had small bulges protruding from it. "It has bread, cheese, some fruit, water and a lemon cake." Orla informed me, sounding like a mother talking to their child. I took the bag from her and shrugged it onto my shoulder.

"Thank you, Orla. Have a fun day, free from me." I grinned at her. She smiled back, but glanced at Lord Jojen, most likely to see what he thought of my familiarity with her. His expression hadn't changed, and I saw her shake her thoughts away.

"I'll do my best, Lady." She bobbed a curtsey and made to go back into my chambers a final time. She turned around to shut the door, when she paused and looked me in the eye. "Oh, I almost forgot! Please be careful, Lady." She said, her tone meaning more than just avoiding any day to day injuries through my own clumsiness. I nodded once to her and sent her a small wave. She returned it and finished shutting the door.

I span around and faced Lord Jojen completely, bouncing a tiny bit on the spot as I did so.

"Are you ready to go, my lady?" He asked, taking a tentative step forward. I nodded and followed him in silence as he continued walking down the hallway. I couldn't think of anything to say to him as we walked. I knew he was close to Bran, from what I had heard. Some said he was his unofficial Hand, though it was known that Bran didn't have one like High Queen Daenerys does.

But that was as much as I knew about Lord Jojen beyond the fact that he was Meera's brother. Thankfully, however, our lack of conversation wasn't a problem, as the silence was rather comfortable. He seemed to exude a strange calm that stopped any nervousness I usually feel around people when I don't know what to say to them. I watched him from the corner of my eye for a while, noting that he walked with grace and confidence, I couldn't see his face from my position slightly behind him to his right, but nothing else grabbed my attention during our walk.

We wound our way through Winterfell, down long hallways, through the Armoury and Great Keep; until we finally reached a small staircase which I assumed led to the ramparts of the innermost walls of Winterfell. Lord Jojen stood to the left hand side of the entryway to the stairs and looked at me.

"This is where I leave you, my lady. Bran is waiting for you at the top of these stairs." Lord Jojen said, a small smile on his lips. He seemed slightly more relaxed than he did outside my chambers, my only real clue being that he dropped the "King" part of Bran's title.

"Thank you, my lord." I replied, giving him a quick, careful curtsey. He nodded and left, walking past me and back down the hallway we had just come through. I didn't watch him go; only listening to his footsteps grow fainter and fainter. I looked at the staircase before me, only a couple of the steep, narrow steps visible through the stone arch that I was to enter through. _Gods, I hope I don't fall… _A small part of my mind muttered as I started up the stairs. There was nothing to hold onto to keep myself steady but the walls, so I trailed both hands on them as I ascended the stairs. A patch of dim light further up showed me how far I had to go.

A moment later, I finally broke out into the half-light of the outside world that was just reaching dawn. A self-congratulatory smile appeared on my face at my successful victory over the stairs. The ramparts stretched out before me, damp and cold, smelling faintly of the rain we had apparently had overnight.

"I see you made it up here alive then?" A voice came from behind me. I turned to see Bran leaning against one of the crenulations of the wall, his cane resting there as well.

"Yes, I did. I won't lie; I'm very proud of myself right now." I beamed at him, walking forward and standing by the wall as well. Though I avoided leaning on it, unsure what the wet stone would do to my dress, and by extension, Orla.

"I'm very proud of you too. I was praying all morning that you wouldn't fall." Bran joked. "But I had faith. I've seen you navigate the Godswood twice and come out in one piece."

"Very true. If I don't fall over in front of you soon, you may get the idea that I'm graceful." I said, a look of mock-horror on my face. Bran pretended to look affronted.

"Never, my good lady. To me, you will forever be the beautiful lady that nearly fell over twice in my courtyard the day she arrived." He said, placing a hand on his chest as if taking an oath. I fought of a blush at his compliment, but let out a short laugh, to which he mirrored.

"So, here I am. What are our plans?" I asked, spreading my arms wide and gesturing to the ramparts we were standing on.

"Well," Bran said, pushing off from the wall and grabbing his cane. "I thought I would show you one of the greatest beauties we have to offer at Winterfell. I've never seen a sunrise that can beat the ones we have in the North, and I hope you'll forgive the early hour and eventually agree it was a worthy sacrifice to make to see it with me?" He said, looking at me with hopeful eyes.

I'm sure if I had been even remotely annoyed at the early hour, that look would have been enough to thaw any cold feelings out; but since I had been looking forward to seeing Bran again from the minute he left last night, I had nothing to forgive.

"That sounds lovely. Where's the best place to watch it then?" I asked, glancing at the spot on the horizon that seemed a shade brighter than the rest where I assumed the Sun would rise.

"A little farther along is my favourite place. There's a larger gap between the crenulations and the watch tower's wall that could just about seat two people." He replied, taking one step along the narrow walkway that topped the wall, drawing beside me, our shoulders nearly touching.

I expected him to present me with his elbow to take, like he had in the Godswood, but instead I felt his hand take mine. His hand felt warm and slightly wet from where it had probably touched the rain-soaked wall. It felt comfortable, as thankfully he had taken my hand in a way that meant his fingers weren't intertwined with mine; his hands dwarfed mine in a way that was almost comical. Nothing made me feel quite so small as standing near Bran Stark, I was discovering.

I felt the familiar tingling feeling I got whenever Bran touched me, and the feeling seemed to radiate through my entire body as he kept a hold of my hand. I looked down at our linked hands and then back up at him, pretty sure I wasn't expected to say anything about it, but feeling the need to communicate that I didn't mind the gesture. I opted for a quick squeeze oh his hand, which brought a small smile to his face, before he started walking; his right hand holding his cane, his left holding my hand. He pulled me along slightly behind him, as the walkway truly was rather narrow, until we reached the part of the wall he had spoken about.

He stood to the side of the gap and released my hand, the sudden rush of cold air on my palm making me miss the contact immediately. The roof of the watch tower overhang the gap, meaning it was relatively dry compared to the rest of the wall, but never the less, Bran unfastened his cloak and placed it on the gap. Then he turned to me, his palms spread out towards me, tilted towards the sky slightly.

"May I?" He asked. I had no idea what he meant by his question, so I just nodded and made a noise that meant 'yes.' Bran took a step forward and bent slightly, placing his arms behind my knees and at my back. My eyes widened as I realised what he was doing, quickly followed by a squeak as he swept me off my feet and into his arms.

Instinct made me throw my arms around his neck and cling tightly. Bran let out a laugh at my reaction and took a step back to the gap.

"You didn't understand what I was asking, did you?" He said, placing me down on one half of his cloak, by legs hanging off the outer edge of the wall.

"No, I didn't." I laughed a little as well.

"I didn't want you to trip and fall whilst climbing up to sit down. I decided putting you there myself was safer. Why did you say yes if you didn't know what I was asking?" Bran asked, as he took his spot next to me. I shrugged.

"I trust you?" My answer came as a question, as I wasn't sure if that was a good enough reason. Bran's face suddenly changed from slightly happy caused by my reaction, to a full on grin.

"Really?" He said, sounding pretty pleased.

"Well, yes, of course I do. Why shouldn't I? You've shared a lot with me, despite only knowing me a few days. You showed me the direwolves, your spot in the Godswood, saved me from my mother on more than one occasion, lied for me and…" I trailed off a little when I saw Bran staring at me, the grin gone, replaced by the face of unreadable emotions I had seen earlier in my visit to Winterfell.

"What?" I said, suddenly feeling slightly self-conscious due to the look in his eyes as he stared. "Am I not meant to trust you? I do anyway, and I can't see why I shouldn't. I mean, I know_ I_ haven't actually shared an awful lot with _you_. Nowhere near as much as you've shared with me. I don't expect you to trust me yet, if that's why you're not saying anything, but I don't think I'll be lifting you up and putting you on a wall any time soon, so I suppose it's not a pressing issue, but I…" I started to babble, feeling slightly flustered by being under Bran's unwavering gaze at such a close range. But then Bran's hand came up and pressed over my mouth, stopping any more nonsense coming out (for which I was truly grateful).

"I trust you, Alianor." He whispered, still looking into my eyes. "You don't need to tell me anything unless you want to. I find it quite fun trying to figure things out about you as it stands. You show every emotion you feel on your face so clearly, yet I can't seem to understand find out anything about you unless you tell me. I'm not used to that. So I'm going to spend as much time as I can trying to understand you." He told me in a louder, normal voice.

"Well, if you get bored trying to figure things out about me, just ask." I said.

"May I ask one question?" He leaned forward a little, focusing on my face as he did so.

"Alright, if you want." I replied, feeling slightly nervous as to what the question would be.

"When you went and trained with my sister and Meera, which of the three targets they had set up did you use? The left, the middle or the right?"

All nervousness left my body, replaced with confusion. It was a strange question, but had a simple answer.

"The one to the far left." I answered, unsure what the significance of my answer was. Bran simply nodded, his expression only showing that he was taking in the information. His head suddenly snapped up.

"Alianor, look at the horizon."

During our little conversation, I had failed to notice the first tiny sliver of the Sun breaking over the top of the hills and trees in the distance. It took a moment, but then I saw why Bran wanted to show me a Northern sunrise.

As it crested the trees, the Sun set the world on fire. The dew that had settled on the leaves, grass and crops mirrored the colours in the sky. Reds, oranges and golds seemed to torch the rich green fields and forests. The natural earthy colours of the North mixed with the fiery colours from the Sun, making the whole land glow.

I couldn't form any words at the sight, and only let out one short, heavy breath as my mouth opened slightly.

"This only happens in the summer, when the Sun is at its strongest and the clouds are thinnest." Bran whispered in my ear. I didn't take my eyes of the sunrise, but nodded absentmindedly in acknowledgement. After a minute of watching the sunrise, I decided to say something to Bran. Most likely a thank you, for showing me this.

I turned my face to him to get his attention, only to see I already had it. He was watching me, not the sunset. His body was angled towards me and he was leaning forward slightly, his face not that far from mine and the look from before was there. I didn't feel flustered this time, and simply stared back at him. He moved slightly closer, bringing a hand up to move the hair from the left half of my face that I hadn't really noticed had fallen there, and then rested it gently on my cheek, his thumb lightly brushing along it.

Then the same disoriented feeling from last night crept up on me as I leant into his hand without realising it. The tingling feeling followed the trail his thumb left, leaving my skin feeling slightly warm, but not in an unpleasant way.

He leaned in closer, so close I could feel his breath near my face, warm against the cold air that had been in his place before. I leaned forward myself, feeling our nose bump the tiniest bit as almost all the distance between our faces disappeared. Only the tiniest bit until our lips would meet. I felt Bran's other hand encircle my waist and pull my body a little closer to his.

We moved to close that final space, when a loud rumble came from in between us, before stopping abruptly. We broke apart at the same time, the distance between our lips growing from a tiny gap to a veritable chasm. The noise came again, and I discovered its location was from inside my stomach.

A sudden wave of hunger hit me as I realised the rumbling was from my current lack of breakfast. Orla's bag was still slung over my shoulder, unopened and waiting.

"Are you…?" Bran started to ask, looking worried. I blushed and shook my head, trying to dispel any worry he had.

"I just forgot to eat breakfast when I got up here. I didn't have time to eat in my chambers this morning and Orla gave me some food to eat wherever I was going to meet you. But I… forgot." I finished lamely, realising my own negligence in feeding myself had meant yet another almost-kiss with Bran was disrupted.

"Oh! I'm so sorry!" Bran exclaimed, looking guilty. "It's my fault you had to get up so early and rush here. Here, you can eat now if you'd like. I don't mind." He offered, moving away a bit to give me room. I felt like closing that distance again, forgetting my hunger for a short time and trying to get back the lost kiss, but I knew Bran's stupid, lovely kindness would stop him from letting me do anything of the sort.

That thought was completely dismissed when my stomach yelled at me again, demanding food. I sighed and swung the bag from just behind me, into my lap and opened it up. I took out some of the food and was about to eat, when a sudden thought hit me. So instead, I looked at it for a moment, trying to decide what to do with it.

"Aren't you going to eat it?" Bran asked, watching me, confused at my inaction.

"Yes. But I don't know what to do with it." I replied, still staring at the food.

"In what way? You know _how_ to eat, no doubt, so I assume that's not where your problem lies." He stated, an amused tone colouring his words.

"My problem lies in manners. I want to offer you something, but I know you'll be too kind to say yes and take anything from me. There is where my problem lies, as I don't know how much to push in offering you food. Do I push until you take something? Or do I ask a few times, then stop and eat everything in front of you, feeling like I'm taunting you with food?" I explained my thought process, deciding that if I couldn't kiss Bran for now, I would try and help him in his endeavour to understand me.

Bran looked at me blankly for a second, before slumping backwards against the side of the gap, crossing his arms and laughing softly.

"I see your problem, my kind lady," Bran teased, "Hmmm, well, if my kindness will cause you distress, I suppose I could accept half the lemon cake I can see in your bag once you finish the rest of your food." He said, raising an eyebrow at me as he made his offer.

"Deal." I agreed, sticking out my hand for him to shake. He did so, and once our hands fell away (the familiar tingle slowly ebbing away soon after we did so) I began eating my food.

We sat there in silence as I ate, watching the rest of the sunrise. We split the lemon cake at the end, as agreed, and finally decided to go back inside of Winterfell after a while. Once Bran had helped me up safely from the gap, we made our way back across the walkway, and down the steep stairs, Bran taking only a little bit longer to get down with his cane.

Once we reached the hallway Lord Jojen had left me in when I had first arrived that morning, we stood there, wondering what to do now. At least, that's what I was doing. I only found out a moment later it was what Bran had been doing as well.

"What would you like to do now? I have the entire day to myself, and I would like to spend it with you, if I may be so forward. You don't have to agree, of course." Bran finished in a rush. I ignored my first instinct to snort and tell him to not be silly, that of course I wanted to spend the day with him, and instead decided to suggest something to show I wanted to.

"Why don't we go for a ride? Like we did my first full day here? We can take a different route or race or something. It's easy enough to get horses saddled and ready quickly." I offered.

"That sounds wonderful." Bran replied, "Would you like to meet in the stables in about a quarter of an hour?" He asked. I nodded, thinking that it would be a good time to put the bag back in my chambers and change into riding boots. Nothing could be done about my dress, since Orla wasn't here for the rest of the day.

"Yes, a quarter of an hour is fine. Goodbye Bran." I answered, walking down the hallway, waving goodbye as I did so. He waved back and followed at a slower pace, but I heard him turn the other way to the direction I went.

I made it back to my chambers with some time to spare, and quickly went about getting ready for my second ride with Bran. A knock came at my door as I finished putting on my riding boots.

I got up and went to open it.

I had barely opened the door an inch when it suddenly flew open entirely and a flash of brightly coloured fabric and energy careened through the entryway and flung itself around my waist.

"ALLY!" A familiar, childish voice yelled out. Anna was currently warped firmly around my waist and legs, her arms and legs clinging to me with a vice-like grip. I staggered back a few steps and gripped a nearby bed-post to steady myself, thankful that she was as tiny as she was and that I hadn't fallen over entirely. It was like getting jumped on by a wolf pup, rather than a direwolf.

"Hello Anna! What are you doing here?" I said, leaning down and plucking the small child from me, and placing her on my hip. She took up her new position easily, wrapping her arms around my neck instead, before answering.

"Uncle Bran sent me to fetch you. I heard him telling Auntie Sansa that he was going on a ride and I asked if I could come too. He said you would be riding with him, and I said that I would go and ask you too. So here I am! Also, I was speaking to mama earlier and we'll be having dinner with Uncle Bran in his rooms tonight, not the Great Hall. I get to come along because I'm friends with you and Uncle Bran said yesterday that I had been really well behaved the past few days, so I'm allowed. Mama and father said that if I was good during today as well, then I could sit next to you too at dinner, if you wanted." Anna babbled happily in my ear as I walked us down the hallway. "Do you want to sit next to me at dinner, Ally?" Anna asked, pulling away from me to look my in the eyes, her small hands interlocking behind my neck to keep herself from falling backwards as she did so.

"Of course I do! That sounds lovely! And of course you can come and ride with Bran and I." I replied, grinning widely, not having the heart to tell Anna I wanted to be alone with Bran. It was probably for the best, as far as doing improper things with Bran goes.

Anna let out a little squeak and hugged my tightly around my neck again, almost choking me.

"Good!" She exclaimed. Then I felt her shoot back up from hugging me and turned my head to see her looking at me wide-eyed and happy. "Come on, let's go to the stables. Uncle Bran said he'd be there when I was running to talk to you." Anna told me, bouncing excitedly in my arms.

I nodded and set off walking out of my rooms and down the hallways and stairs that would lead us to the courtyard and stables. I carried Anna all of the way, listening to her telling me all about her previous rides with her uncle. It seemed they were fairly common occurrences, from the stories she told me.

"When I go riding, I always sit on the horse with Uncle Bran, because he makes sure I don't fall off. Mama says that I'm too little to sit on the proper saddles or ride on my own, so I have to sit with somebody else." Anna seemed disgusted with the idea. "I like sitting with Uncle Bran, though, because he sometimes goes really fast on the horse and that's really fun. You can't tell my mama about that. Uncle Bran says it's our secret, because he thinks mama will yell at him for riding too fast with me. It can be your secret too, now, right? She doesn't get that I'm safe if Uncle Bran is there." Anna shook her head forlornly, appearing to mourn her mother's apparent lack of understanding. I bit back a small laugh at her rushed little speech. "You'll keep it a secret, right?" She pressed, a look of worry suddenly appearing on her tiny face, her brow scrunching up and her eyes growing large, like a baby deer.

"I promise I'll keep this secret too. I haven't told anybody about the lemon cakes yet, so you can still trust me." I told her seriously, not wanting her to fret. Her face smoothed back out into its familiar carefree grin, and one sharp nod that sent her hair flipping forward was her final response. She settled back closer to me, more comfortably; laying her head in the crook of my neck. I knew she wasn't tired, though, as I felt her head and hair move every now and then, tickling me softly as she looked around at things we passed by on our way to the stables.

We had only just entered the courtyard when she suddenly leapt forward in my arms, her hands reaching in front of her, as if to grab something.

"UNCLE BRAN!" She yelled.

Someone in a cloak a little way off, under the wooden roofs over-hanging the stables, turned around to look at us. I guessed it was Bran, but obviously Anna could see better than I could, since the sun and shadows the roof cast meant I couldn't make out his features. I turned slightly and walked towards the figure regardless, trying to keep a decent grip on Anna as I did so.

With her legs still firmly wrapped around my waist, but the rest of her hanging off me and reaching towards Bran, this was quite a feat; considering that I was also trudging through a good few inches of wet mud, wearing in a dress, and trying not to drop the small child in my arms all at the same time.

I managed it, however, finally reaching Bran under the stable roof, slightly red-faced and panting lightly, whilst juggling a wriggling Anna. She was currently almost upside down, bending backwards away from me, her hair hanging down as she giggled. Her arms were still outstretched towards her uncle.

"Uncle Bran!" She yelled again, not quite as loud as before, but a laugh was thrown into this yell, as she started swinging her arms forwards and backwards in her upside down position. I was having trouble holding onto her now. Thankfully, Bran must have seen the panicked look on my face, as he dropped his cane and swooped down to wrap his arms around Anna's waist mid-way through one of her forward swings. We were now sharing her light weight, her back and head resting against Bran's chest, her legs held by me.

She continued to giggle giddily, and tilted her head back to look at her uncle's face.

"Hello, Uncle Bran!" She said brightly. "Ally said I could come! I brought her down with me." She added. Bran looked down at her, moving to take her legs from me as he did so. Eventually he was holding her cradled entirely in his arms.

"I see that, thank you very much Anna. Though from where I was standing it seemed more as though Alianor was bringing you to me. However did you convince yet another person to carry you?" Bran asked, glancing at me as he spoke to her. My quizzical look at his question prompted him to explain quickly.

"She already has had almost every member of Winterfell's household carry her somewhere at one time or another. They all walk away from the experience looking dazed and confused. Arya has no idea how she does it. You're the first guest she's managed to dupe into carrying her around, though." Bran said, looking down at Anna and jostling her in a jokingly reprimanding way.

She let out another peal of giggles as he did so, a mischievous look colouring her face before she buried it into his chest and shoulder. I saw a glimmer in her eyes that looked all too familiar to the one I was used seeing in Bran's eyes. I saw what Arya meant by Anna acting a lot like him, the more time I spent with the little girl.

"So, what is your secret?" Bran asked, honest curiosity in his voice, as he began swinging Anna gently from side to side.

Anna shrugged and looked up at him again.

"You don't give them a choice. Just jump and hold on." She replied. Bran looked slightly stunned at the answer, before he burst out laughing. I couldn't help but laugh too.

"I suppose that's one way to get someone to carry you. They can't say no if you don't ask them." Bran laughed, looking impressed at his niece's methods.

"Exactly!" Anna exclaimed. "You should try it some time, Ally. It's really fun, and really useful if you're tired." She said to me.

"I believe I'll try it some other time." I said, still laughing a little bit. Anna's lower lip shot out in a pout.

"You should try it now! It's really fun, I promise!" She said, her eyes wide, obviously wanting to share her game with me very badly. A small part of me did sort of want to try it out, but I knew there were all sorts of things wrong with me doing what she did.

My mother may be gone for a few days, but this sort of thing would be sure to get back to her. I could only imagine the look on her face when she found out I tried to jump on a random blacksmith in the courtyard of Winterfell. I tried to think of a good reason why I couldn't jump on people with her as fast as my brain could work. I sudden thought came to me and I decided to try it out.

"They'd have to be pretty strong to be able to carry me. I'm more than twice as big as you are. I don't think anybody would be too happy if I tackled them to the ground, trying to jump on them." I told her, smiling apologetically. She nodded thoughtfully for a second, a look of pity on her face as she realised the truth in my words. Then a look of triumph crossed her face.

"I know! Uncle Bran can try and carry you! He's really strong! Not as strong as my father, but he's busy right now. Uncle Bran isn't. He can put you onto Des! You won't have to jump on him, cause he'll just pick you up. You won't be tackling him at all, that way." Anna tried to sit up in Bran's arms as she explained her idea enthusiastically.

"Des?" Bran said absentmindedly, slightly stunned by Anna's exuberance and idea.

"Ally's horse is called Des. He's just over there," Anna said, pointing to my horse, who stood only a foot or two away, already saddled and ready for our ride. "I remember him from when we welcomed you the other day." She finished proudly.

A part of me was hesitant at the idea of Bran lifting me onto Des. It felt like something my mother would hear about and yell at me for when she got back. But that part was ignored by the part of me that just found Anna's idea funny.

"Don't worry, Ally. Uncle Bran always lifts me onto his horse. He's really nice like that. He doesn't mind, do you Uncle Bran?... Uncle Bran?" She looked up at her uncle when he didn't respond right away. He no longer looked stunned, more like he was deep in thought over something. But he snapped out of it when she repeated his name.

"I…what? Oh!... I could try and lift Alianor onto Des, Anna, but I may not be able to." He looked to me to see what I thought of the suggestion. But Anna got in there before I could respond.

"Why not?" Anna demanded, upset that her uncle wasn't helping her help me as easily as she assumed he would. "Do you think she's too heavy for you? Are you not as strong as I thought you were?" She said, raising an eyebrow. I think she was trying to manipulate Bran. If she was, she was doing a good job.

"No! Of course not! I'm sure I could lift Alianor easily." Bran said, sounding a tiny bit insulted that Anna would assume he was weak.

"Then why won't you?" Anna asked. "If you were standing by Des when you picked her up, you wouldn't need to bother about walking with her in your arms and using your cane at the same time, but Ally still gets carried and gets to see how fun it is." She added, nodding to Bran's cane that still lay on the ground where he had dropped it.

"I know that I could just help her up by her horse, but that's not-"

"That's not what?"

"That's not what I was going to say. I was going to say that maybe Alianor didn't want to have someone carry her?" Bran tried.

I saw his shoulders slump in a form of defeat mere seconds after the words had left his mouth. To be fair, Anna had been looking at him with big soulful eyes the second he had started trying to argue with her again. They reminded me of the hopeful look his eyes held when we were on the wall that morning. He looked to me with an apologetic look in his eyes, obviously feeling like he had failed to save me from the terrible fate of being lifted up onto my horse.

"She wants you to carry her, don't you Ally?" Anna stated matter-of-factly, turning to me with her soulful eyes wide and hopeful. But there was that familiar glimmer in her eyes. "You want Uncle Bran to help you onto Des, right?"

I got the feeling this was past Anna simply wanting me to join in her game now. This wasn't even what her game entailed. That involved jumping on random people and getting them to carry you places. I was beginning to get the feeling the child was up to something…

But I shook the thought away, enjoying her excitement too much to put an end to her antics, and just nodded.

A wide grin spread across her face as she wrenched herself away from Bran and made him drop her onto her feet on the ground. She grabbed his cane off the ground and pressed it into his hand, before grabbing his free hand and one of mine and dragging us over to Des. I shared a look with Bran, to which he shrugged and managed an amused smile at his niece's actions. I did my best to return one.

"Right! Here we are! Ally, Uncle Bran. Lift!" She spread her arms wide, gesturing towards us and Des, before crossing them by her chest and looking at us expectantly.

Bran turned to me and raised both of his eyebrows.

"I get the feeling we're not going to get out of this, so how would you like me to go about it?" Bran whispered. He leant his cane of the back wooden wall of Des' stall before standing in front of me fully. My back was facing Des, and I knew I probably looked a little bit lost.

"Um, I think just…hands on my waist… get me to the saddle?" I did my best to get my idea across. Which wasn't easy, since I didn't really know what my idea was exactly.

Bran seemed to figure out what to do from my rather unhelpful suggestion, as he nodded confidently and placed his hands on my waist as I had said to. They felt warm and relaxed as they rested there.

"You may want to put your hands on my shoulders and push yourself up as I lift you. It's a fair way to go to get to the saddle." He offered quietly, a small smile in place. His eyes were soft and looked right into mine. My hands moved to his shoulders quickly, but I felt rigid and awkward as I did. I felt similar giddy feelings to those I had felt last night and this morning come rushing back to me, but they were batted away by small nerves.

I was a bit worried that something would go wrong when he picked me up. Horrible images of him dropping me into the mud by accident, me kicking him when I got into the saddle, my dress getting caught on the way up and so many others flashed through my mind.

Bran did his usual trick of reading my mind, however, and leaned in closer to me and made me meet his eyes.

"I won't drop you. Don't worry. I've got you and nothing bad will happen." He said. My eyes widened a little and I just nodded silently and tried to relax my body, preparing to be placed onto my horse.

"Come on!" A little voice called out. Bran and I looked over his shoulder to see an impatient looking Anna. "We have to get on our horses and go for a ride." She stated, still looking at us expectantly.

"Alright, you bossy little skrog, we're getting a move on." Bran laughed, turning back to look at me, raising an eyebrow. "I said I'd use it." He said, and I laughed a little, shaking my head at him.

"Perfect usage." I replied, grinning. He smiled at me, and then tightened his grip on my waist a bit, straightening his posture.

"Ready?" He asked. I nodded once and braced myself.

"3…2…1…" And Bran lifted me. I helped a little by pushing off the ground with my feet. He easily lifted me level with the saddle, and I caught my heel in the stirrup and helped him set me on the saddle itself. I was up! And nothing bad had happened! Victory!

"Yay!" Anna called out, clapping happily and bouncing on the spot. "Wasn't that fun, Ally?" She asked, a gleeful look on her face.

I grinned back at her, and responded with equal happiness;

"It was, Anna, Thank you for sharing your game with me."

"Well, now we have to get on out horse, Anna." Bran said, grabbing his cane and starting off toward the other horse that had been saddled in the stable. "Come on."

Anna ran around Des to the horse she and Bran would be using and wasted no time in climbing onto one of the sides of the stalls and clambering onto the horses back. Once she was settled comfortably at the front of the saddle, Bran strapped his cane to the saddle and mounted the horse behind her. His arms penned her in on either side of her little body, holding the reins, keeping her securely on the horse.

"Ready?" Bran asked Anna, leaning to the side and looking down at her, to see her reaction. She nodded enthusiastically and gripped the little hand rest at the front of the saddle tightly, looking adorably tiny atop the giant horse. He looked at me with a questioning look, as if asking the same thing.

"Ready." I replied. He smiled and spurred his horse forward, as I did with Des, and we slowly made our way out of Winterfell, two guards falling in behind us on horseback as we exited the main gateway.

* * *

I am so so sorry it has taken so long to update. Life has been like a freaking whirlwind of shiznits the past week or so (and I I've had next to no wifi for 98.5% of it. I won't have any again till around next monday, probably. :/ ) It took me all that time just to get this together, and it'll most likely take about the same amount of time for the next update, and I'm very sorry about that. This chapter is sort of a light one, until I can focus fully on the story again, but I figured it was a chance to develo/introduce characters and stuff, so yeah, I hope you enjoyed it. Feel free to comment, critique or correct me in the reviews section. :D

Have a great time until the next update and DFTBA,

XO Jennifer

PS, Title credit goes to My Chemical Romance, as it's a variation on their song titled Early Sunsets Over Monroeville. :)


	11. The One With All The Stories

Chapter 10: The One With All The Stories

We rode for quite a while, much farther than we had on our last ride. Once we were far enough away from Winterfell, I adjusted myself to sit astride Des. Anna spent most of the journey talking, telling us all of her latest adventures climbing on the Great Keep. Apparently she had found a crow's nest with baby chicks in it. She told us the names she had given them, their personalities, and every other little detail she had made up about them.

She also spent her time trying to get Bran's horse to go faster, nudging it every now and then with her foot. I doubt the horse could even feel her attempts, given how tiny she was, but her huffs of frustration when nothing happened were entertaining. I could see Bran trying not to laugh at her when she tried poking the horses back and whispering to it.

She changed her tactics eventually and started pestering Bran. Every now and then Bran would give in to Anna's begging to ride faster, so we would have short bursts of speed, which I really enjoyed myself. Anna's shouts of delight told me she enjoyed them too.

The guards that had followed us as we left stayed as far behind us as they could, riding silently.

We deviated from the main path through the woods once we entered them, taking a maze of dirt trails further into the thickets of towering sentinels that made up the forest. I could feel twigs and leaves catching in my hair every now and then, as low lying branches swiped softly at me. I noticed the same thing happening to Anna, but Bran would pick them out of her hair as soon as they found their way into her messy plaits.

Bran and I didn't speak much on the ride, preferring to listen to Anna's excited babbling. She had that child-like wonder at everything she saw, though I'm certain she would have seen them a thousand times before now. Every tree, animal and stream was fascinating to her, and she repeatedly made Bran pause to look at them for a while. She had a habit of naming everything she saw.

Bran suddenly stopped us in the middle of the woods, dismounting his horse and quickly lifting Anna down. I had both my legs back onto one side of my horse when he came around to help me down too, clasping his hands around my waist and making sure I didn't stumble on the uneven ground when I landed. Once I was on the ground, I straightened my skirts and looked around. All I could see were similar trees to the ones we had been riding through for the past hour.

"Why have we stopped? Where are we?" I asked Bran, feeling as though I were missing something.

Bran opened his mouth to answer but a smaller, more childish girls voice replied before he could.

"It's the Climbing Place, Ally! Come and look!" Anna called out, grabbing my hand and dragging me off farther into the woods. I looked back at Bran, to see him tying our horses to two trees near a small brook and grinning at me, before nodding towards Anna, motioning for me to follow her.

I did, and a minute later, Anna pulled me through a gap in between two trees. We broke out into a small glade which had previously been hidden from view by the wall a wall of trees. Anna released my hand and ran out onto the centre, her arms spread wide, as if presenting it to me.

"Isn't it wonderful, Ally? It's my second favourite place in the whole Known World! There are three climbing trees, a waterfall, a stream, a pond, a cave _and_ seat!" She exclaimed in a rush.

"A seat?" I asked, looking around at the other things she had mentioned. I picked out the three climbing trees fairly easily, located in two corners of the glade, and one in the middle. They were the only ones to have low hanging branches and obvious footholds, their trunks worn smooth from repeated use, most likely by Anna.

The cave was harder to spot, hidden partially by moss and large rocks. The rough ground of the forest meant the glade had a gentle sloping wall on in the north-east part, like the drop-down of a ditch that spread out into the clearing. A small enclave was cut into the rock and earth of that wall, larger boulders and slanting rocks making up the entrance. The inside was cloaked in shadow, but I assumed it couldn't be very deep.

The waterfall, stream and pond made up one scene in the glade, only about a foot from where I was standing. The waterfall as just a small cascade of water running over three layers of moss covered rocks and stones in the ground, little pools forming on each layer, giving the waterfall tiers and curtains of water before it hit the pond, fuelled by the stream Anna had mentioned. The stream split the glade in two, running as a thin, dark blue line that ran out of the glade, coming from one of the small rivers that cut through the forest.

The pond was a similar size to those in the Godswood back in Winterfell, but the water in it was clearer. You could see the bottom of this pond, small fish that had probably been dragged from the main river swam amongst its small pebbles. I could hear faint, uninterrupted rushing of the water, which made the glade feel like it was alive; a very different feeling to the melancholy atmosphere of the ancient Godswood, which walked the fine line between undisturbed calm and stagnation.

"Yes, see, it's over there!" Anna's voice rang through my thoughts, dragging me back to the present.

I looked at her to see her hand pointing to the west side of the glade. I turned to see a stone outcrop a few feet away to my left, jutting out of another green, ditch-like wall, the earth that would have covered it long since fallen away. The exposed rock was shaped like a seat, complete with stone armrests. It wasn't carved, or at least, the rocks were arranged in way that looked like they had formed naturally. Anna appeared next to me whilst I was looking at the seat.

"I call it the Stone Throne in my head, but it actually looks more like a bench, I think. But it rhymes, and it's fun to say. I think it's nicer than the Iron Throne too, because _that _throne looks really uncomfortable and scary in my books." Anna told me with a shrug, before running off in the direction of one of the trees. I walked over to the seat and sat down, watching Anna run and jump onto the trunk of the closest climbing tree. She scaled it with astonishing speed, disappearing into the higher branches in seconds. Rustling in the leaves, gradually occurring further and further up the tree gave me a faint idea of her progress.

I heard the slightly uneven crunching of twigs and leaves behind me which told me the Bran had finished taking care of the horses. I glanced to my right in time to see him sit down next to me on the stone seat.

"Sansa's going to kill me when I bring her back covered in twigs, moss and grass stains." Bran said, watching the tree that currently housed his niece. "She blames me for Anna's little hobby. I suppose she's right, since it was _my_ favourite thing to do when I was her age."

"I wish I had had trees like this at Starfall when I was growing up. Most of the trees in Dorne are to thin and flimsy to climb. My father's orchards were alright for hiding in, at least." I told him.

"My mother hated it when I climbed. The rooftops and towers of Winterfell were a second home to me, and she was forever scared I'd fall. Once, she told me that I wasn't to climb anymore. I promised her I wouldn't." He took paused, a sad smile on his face for a second, before it was gone. "I lasted about a fortnight before I was up there again. The next day I felt so guilty that I had broken my promise I went and told me father. He sent me to the Godswood for a night, under guard, to think about what I had done. They couldn't find me at first the next morning." He stopped again and a somewhat happier smile found its way to his face this time. The pause was longer this time.

"What happened?" I pressed. Bran leaned back and rested against the stone back-rest of the seat, laying his cane against his armrest.

"They found me fast asleep, in the tallest tree in the grove. My father wasn't even angry with me. He just said "You're not my son; you're a squirrel." And let me continue to climb, as long as my mother never found out." He finished. I laughed a little at his father's words, as did Bran. But the sad smile from before appeared again for a second, so I couldn't laugh for all that long.

I knew Bran's mother and father had died during that wars, but I didn't know the full details. Neither would I ask him now. I just left him to his thoughts for as long as he needed and sat silently with him A short time later, Bran straightened up where he was sitting and leaned forward, watching as Anna shimmied down the trunk of the tree during her descent. Once she was back on the ground, she turned and sprinted towards us.

"Uncle Bran! Ally! I found a squirrel nest!" She yelled, reaching us and jumping into the small gap between Bran and myself, before spinning around and sitting there properly. The gap was, in truth, very small, so she was rather squashed. She leaned her head on my shoulder, her shoulders tight to Bran and I; her arms tight to her side.

"Really? Where is it?" I asked, moving over slightly so she would have more room. Instead, she moved along with me and picked up my arm, placing it around her shoulders and relaxing into my side; pulling her feet up to curl on the seat near Bran.

"There." She said, pointing to the upper left hand side of the tree she had just climbed up. "There are three babies and one big one. I think that one was the mother."

"Well, you mustn't go up there and disturb them, then." Bran said, poking Anna's ribs when she started poking him with her foot. She let out a giggle and burrowed further into me, her pointy little elbow digging into my ribs.

"Why not?" She said, moving back to her previous comfortable position when he stopped.

"If she feels that you're threatening her young, she'll attack. I don't want to have to explain squirrel bites to Maester Thalwyn, as well as moss stains to your aunt." Bran rolled his eyes at Anna, grabbing her ankle as she tried to poke him again.

"Right. Time to drop the annoying niece in the pond." He said with a grin, and lunged towards us, grabbing Anna around the waist and standing up quickly, slinging her over his shoulder like a sack. He quickly limped the few steps towards edge of the pond, before moving Anna firmly into his arms and holding her out over the water. Squeals and giggles of delight and terror came from Anna as she kicked and tried to wriggle out of his arms. I got up and followed, trying not to laugh out loud.

"Uncle Bran, put me down!" Anna shouted, laughing between words.

"Alright." Bran replied, before pretending to drop her into the water for a second. She let out a quick scream of "No!" quickly followed by even more giggles.

"Put me down on the _ground_!" She clarified, trying to grip onto his arms so he couldn't drop her again.

"Are you going to start poking me again?" He asked, raising an eyebrow and trying not to smile.

"No no no no no! Ally, help me!" She answered, trying to twist to look at me, her arm flailing behind her, towards me. Bran spoke before I could.

"She can't help you. The only thing that can help you is a promise not to poke me again." Bran stated. "Do you promise?"

"Yes!" Anna cried, giggling and trying to reach for Bran's shoulders.

"Good." Bran said, pulling Anna back over dry land and holding her closer to him. He then put her on the ground and took a step back as she dashed away, running across the short distance from us to the tree and scurried up it to safety. Bran turned to me and beckoned me closer.

"Come on." He said with a smile. I walked quickly to catch up with him and took the hand he held out to me, my hand tingling at the contact as usual. We walked slowly across the glade, Bran limping more than usual without his cane. I thought to run back and grab his cane for him, but we were already under the tree Anna was sitting in. He released my hand stood under the tree, looking up.

A rustling came from the tree above us and a shower of leaves and twigs fell down, getting stuck in Bran's hair.

"You do realise you'll have to come down eventually, right?" He called up. Her response was a giggle that came from somewhere in the foliage. More rustling followed; no doubt caused by Anna climbing higher.

He shook his head and laughed, placing a hand on his leg and limping the rest of the way to the tree, before turning and sitting down, placing his back against the trunk. He sighed heavily once he had finished, stretching his right leg in front of him. He watched as Anna started hanging out of the tree and generally messing around.

I sat down beside him again and watched him watching her, as he absentmindedly rubbed his leg.

"Are you alright?" I asked, realising that maybe his leg was causing him pain. I had never given much thought to Bran's limp before now. I knew that he had been crippled as a child, as most people in Westeros did. When he first became King of the North, I had heard some people were unhappy with the thought of having a "cripple for a king."

But those thoughts, opinions and questions had never taken hold against Bran, as far as I knew. He had proven himself to be a remarkably good King within the first few official months of ruling, if my father's words were true.

I faintly remember when the news broke that the King of the North could walk again a few years ago; but since I was a Dornish girl, living so far from the North, more interested in hiding swords and bows from my mother than politics, that was all I knew of the matter.

"Yes, I'm alright. Using my leg without my cane for that long can sometimes hurt for a short time afterwards. It's nothing to worry about." He assured me, finishing rubbing his leg and leaning back. "It's a small price to pay for being able to walk again." He said with a casual shrug, looking me in the eyes.

A new-found curiosity wormed its way into my consciousness, wondering how Bran had recovered. From what little I knew, I had heard he had fallen from a tower in Winterfell when he was young and hadn't been able to walk from then until a few years ago.

Bran must have seen something in my eyes that informed him of my thoughts, because he smiled gently and said,

"A story for another time. Only because it's long, and not for Anna's ears yet. I _will_ tell you eventually, though, Alianor." He told me, something of a promise in his eyes. I nodded and let the matter go.

We spent a few more hours in the clearing, playing games with Anna and talking. Anna asked me a lot about Dorne; mainly wanting to know any stories we had. I told her as many as I could remember, but I ran out after about fifteen. I told them like my old nurse had told them to me, giving every character a voice and a presence. Anna sat there enthralled as I raised and dropped my voice when the story demanded it.

After that, she told me she wanted more, so I just made them up for her. I seemed to do an alright job of being a story-teller for Anna, as she sat quietly and listened for more than an hour.

We decided to return to Winterfell around midday; a need for lunch being the main driving force behind the decision.

We mounted the horses, Anna riding me with me this time, and met back up with the guards, who had been guarding the glade the entire time we had been there. The ride back to Winterfell involved even more chatter from Anna, who questioned me even more about Dorne and Starfall, and about the stories I told her, wanting even more depth and insight into them.

We made it back to Winterfell about two hours after midday, entering through the South Gate. We went straight to the kitchens, where we had a small feast to ourselves. Once we had finished eating, Anna spotted a friend of hers, a small girl with plaits even messier than Anna's. She said quick thank yous and goodbyes to us, before running off with the girl and disappearing out of the brightly lit doorway that led from the kitchens to the courtyard. I turned back around from watching her leave, and continued sipping the sweet wine we had been given with our lunch.

"Ah, the Lady Alianor. And another Stark. I just escaped your sister." A lazy drawl came from behind me. I turned to see Lord Tyrion Lannister sauntering through the doorway Anna had just left through.

"Tyrion. A pleasure as always. Which sister of mine are you hiding from _this_ time?" Bran asked, a genuine smile on his face as he greeted the man.

"You should know from the terms I use. One "escapes" from my wife, as one "flees" from Lady Arya." He replied with a wry smile as he jumped up onto a stool by the large oak table we were seated at the back of the kitchens.

"That sounds about right. Well, you can hide here as long as you wish. Would you like some wine?" Bran asked, reaching for a glass already.

"If you please. It appears I've angered Sansa over some thing or other, and it was starting to get a little too dangerous to remain in our chambers." Lord Tyrion said, jumping up onto one of the stools by the table we were sat at in the centre of the kitchen. "That reminds me, we're going to need another looking glass in our chambers. The last seems to have magically shattered into a thousand pieces." He took the glass of wine Bran had poured and was now holding out to him. "Thank you."

"I'll see to it as soon as I can." Bran sighed, but he was still smiling.

Lord Tyrion turned to me. "Lady Alianor, I don't believe I've had the pleasure of making your acquaintance properly again during this visit. It has been a while since you were with us at Casterly Rock. How are you liking your time at Winterfell?" Lord Tyrion took a large draught of his wine after he spoke.

"It's lovely, thank you. Everyone has been so welcoming." I said, fiddling with my own glass a little and watching the man who sat across from me. He was watching me with intelligent eyes, but they were not unkind. His unwavering gaze was a little disconcerting, though. I felt myself getting a little nervous for some reason.

"I've noticed." He smirked, raising an eyebrow and sending Bran an almost imperceptible glance. But I caught it, and the meaning of his words was clear to me. Some people obviously _had_ noticed I had been spending a fair amount of time alone with Bran, Lord Tyrion being one of them. Though nothing about Lord Tyrion led me to believe he would have any reason to use this information for malicious purposes.

From what I knew of Lord Tyrion, he was Lord of Casterly Rock, loyal to the High Queen and still held sway in the courts of King's Landing. From the way he and Bran greeted each other, I assumed they were at least amicable with one another.

Regardless, I supposed the worst he could do was tell my mother, and little more than my reputation would be damaged in that act. Not that I even had created much of a reputation to uphold.

I didn't talk much when I went on visits with my family, preferring to hide in whatever library or study that castle or keep had. My activities at Winterfell were the first of their kind, in almost every way. I had never gotten along so well with any of my previous hosts.

"You enjoy reading, my lady." Lord Tyrion stated, leaning forward and resting an arm on the table in front of him, running a finger along his wine glass, catching a stray drop as he did so.

"Y-yes, my lord. I do. Very much so." I replied, cursing myself for stammering a little. I'd have to do something about this stupid habit of getting nervous when people watch me. But I was confused as to why Lord Tyrion was bringing that up. Of all the things to talk about, reading didn't seem like an obvious choice for conversation.

His face was a mask of polite interest, but something in his eyes made me feel like I was a puzzle box he was figuring out. I was probably just being paranoid.

"Have you been to the library at Winterfell yet? I seem to recall you spending most of your time in our library when you visit." He drawled. "Before you, I felt I was the only one to set foot in that place for a decade. I can't say the same for Winterfell. Apparently our King often hides in there for hours on end. With such lovely company like my darling wife and I, I can't imagine why." He said, good-humoured sarcasm lacing his words. I heard Bran scoff at my side.

"I do not _hide_ from anyone. And you're one to talk, you're hiding right now! Are you so afraid of my sister that you have to skulk around the kitchens for hours until you see her again?" Bran jested.

"Yes. Yes I am. The older she gets, the more her beauty increases, but the force of her wrath does the same. Once we passed her twenty-fifth name day, I decided the safest course of action when she got angry was hiding. I found I quite enjoyed not getting hit in the face with flying hair brushes." Tyrion retorted. "But, my lady, have you been to the library here?" He queried again.

"I have, yes, my lord. Only once, earlier in my visit." I responded, wondering why Lord Tyrion was so interested in me visiting Winterfell's library.

"Wonderful. Once your parents return, I doubt Bran will have much time to entertain you like he will over the next couple of days. I would be honoured if you would join me in reading there, after their return." He entreated, before raising his glass to his lips and tipping the rest of his wine down his throat.

"Thank you, my lord. I think I would enjoy that very much." I said, surprised but Lord Tyrion's invitation, but it was a kind thought none-the-less.

"You're welcome, my lady. Now, I fear I must leave you. It doesn't do well to stay in the same place for too long when hiding from an angered woman. Especially when they're a Stark." He sighed, "I suppose I shall see you both at dinner tonight. Farewell." He concluded brightly, hopping off his stool and turning his back to us, before walking towards and out of the doorway to the courtyard.

Once he was gone, I turned to see Bran leaning against the wall his stool was situated by, his hand loosely clasping his wine goblet on the table.

"That's the third time during their visit that something's been broken during one of their arguments. The first time it was a window, the time after that a dish. Their quarrels are short and heated, but they're over the smallest matters. When they aren't bickering, they actually suite one another rather well. Both are too stubborn for their own good." Bran observed with a smile, still watching the doorway Tyrion had left through. "They're friends, though, and have been since the wars. Tyrion did a lot to keep Sansa safe when I could not, and for that I am ever grateful." His voice became a shade more serious on the last sentence, but when Bran made brief eye contact with me when he finished speaking, his eyes

"They _did_ seem happy when I visited them at Casterly Rock those years ago. I think it's a wonderful thing if you can at least like the person you marry. I've heard ladies in my father's court speak of how they loathe their husbands, though some have been married decades. I can't imagine what that would be like. Trapped in a marriage to someone you hate." I chose my words carefully. What he had told me didn't seem like the sort of information he would tell just anybody. I felt like I should tell him something in return. "My parents don't fight much, but they don't talk to each other an awful lot either. My father is always with his advisors and knights, doing business, so I suppose that's one reason they hardly speak to each other. I was surprised he accepted the invitation to visit Hornwood, right in the middle of your trade talks, though. I would have thought he'd send me and my mother to go in his stead. Business is everything to my father. He always puts it before everything else, or has for as long as I've known him at least."

"Well, we _are_ almost finished with the talks. I believe we will finish a day or two after he returns." Bran replied, his voice holding a strange tone. I brushed it off; he had a thoughtful look in his eye as he looked at me for a second, as if he were trying to figure something out. His mind was probably somewhere else as he spoke, though, as his gaze wasn't entirely focused on me.

The conversation ended there, as Bran leaned forward, took his glass of wine and finished it. He put it back down and stood up.

"Have you finished?" He asked, retrieving his cane from its place, wedged between a barrel and the wall near him. He began walking around the table slowly. I looked at my cup, almost empty, and quickly downed it, wincing slightly as the sweet spice in the wine tickled my throat.

"Yes, I'm done." He offered me his arm and I took it.

We began walking out of the kitchens, the harsh glare of the hidden North Sun from behind grey clouds hurting my eyes a little after the relative darkness of the kitchens.

"We can go to the Godswood if you like. It'll be more private there and I can tell you those things I couldn't when we were with Anna today." He offered, steering me around the library tower and towards those familiar wooden doors. I nodded and let him lead me onwards, towards the wood.

We entered the Godswood for a third time in so many days. It was now firmly my favourite place in Winterfell. As soon as the doors shit behind us, everything grew quiet. The noise of the world outside was cut off, and the air always smelt sweeter than anywhere else in the castle. Bran and I made our way down the main path a short distance, before breaking away from it like we had before. I recognised the different markers that led to our clearing that I had memorised from our return journey last time.

I was also getting better at walking through the Godswood, and wasn't so worried about tripping and falling. Bran noticed this, as he relaxed his grip on my arm and we settled at simply holding hands as we walked.

We got to our clearing a lot faster than last time, as we both knew the way and I didn't have to walk as carefully. On settling beside the small pool, Bran waited a moment to begin talking.

"I'm going to tell you the full story, if you don't mind. It's easier that way, and you'll probably need to ask fewer questions if I just tell you everything from the start, alright? This is the first time I've told this story in full to anyone."

"Alright." I agreed, crossing my legs and getting comfortable to listen to him. He took another moment to collect his thoughts, and then started.

"When I was ten, I fell from one of our towers. I can't remember actually falling, but I did. I was near death for weeks, and didn't wake from a deep sleep after the fall. My mother sat by my bedside for weeks, until I woke up. The maester of Winterfell at the time, Maester Luwin, believed that I would never walk again. Throughout all of the wars, I was crippled. At first, I was carried on the back of a man named Hodor, who worked in my father's stables. When I grew, wheelbarrows, horses and various other methods were used to move me about. Tyrion designed for me a saddle to let me ride without the use of my legs." Bran smiled at that point, but it was gone soon after. "A lot happened during the wars, and I learned to live with the idea of never using my legs again. It taught me a lot about humility and accepting help from others." Bran hesitated a moment and looked to be thinking, before shaking his head and looking at me.

"I'll tell you my stories from the wars another time. They're infinitely longer than this one, and much more complicated. For now, I will move on to the end of the wars, when Daenerys became the High Queen and took her place on the Iron Throne.

When she assumed power, many people from the Free Cities came to Westeros. Among them were healers, scholars, maegi and others of the same sort. Once I was pronounced King of the North, hundreds of them flocked to Winterfell, wishing to "cure" me. For years I turned them away.

Sansa was forever sending me ravens from Casterly Rock, begging me to accept one of them. To at least try _something_ they offered. But I didn't want to hear any of it. She said nothing aloud, but I know Arya felt similar frustration at my inaction as Sansa did.

But I thought their promises and offers of healing to be false. Empty. I questioned their motives, and the answers I came up with for those questions kept me from even listening to them after a while. Anyone who came to offer their services in healing me was given food and shelter for a night, before they were turned away."

Bran stopped again and slowly looked around at the tall sentinels that surrounded us, giving me a moment to take in the story so far. He didn't falter when he spoke, his words rang clear and flowed almost melodically, with a similar perfect rhythm as the story-tellers my father employed back in Dorne.

"It was only a few years ago that I gave in to Sansa's pleas and agreed to listen to someone. But I told her I would only listen to one more person. After that, she took it upon herself to find the person who would be allowed to come to me. It took almost a year before I got a raven from Sansa that told me who she had chosen.

He was a maester from the Citadel. His name wasn't well known before the wars, and he wasn't assigned to any keep, castle or holding yet. His chain links were made of Silver, Copper, Black Iron, Bronze…and two of Valyrian Steel. Silver shows studies in Medicine and Healing, Copper means History, Black Iron means Ravenry and Bronze means Astronomy." Bran took a deep breath before he continued.

"Valyrian Steel shows studies in Magic. From what I knew, I had always thought that magic was looked down upon by maesters. Maester Luwin once told me that "A man who trusts in spells duels with a glass sword." But I had promised Sansa I would at least listen to her chosen candidate out. And so I did." Bran was looking at his hands by this point, on the point of fiddling with them like I did when I got nervous. He seemed to be choosing his words more carefully now, though he still didn't falter as he spoke.

"I can't tell you exactly what the maester said to me that convinced me to let him try and heal me, as there are some secrets I still have to share with you in the future before his words make sense, but it was a far cry from what any of the others said to me. I _can_ tell you that he had once studied with Archmaester Marwyn, who was the leading researcher in magic for the order.

He used his knowledge of medicine and magic to heal me, though the details are too complicated for me to even begin to describe, or even understand fully myself. But he healed me, and gave me back the use of my legs.

However, growing from the age of eleven without using my legs meant that once I could move them, I had no real muscle or strength in them. Ever since I could walk again, I've used this cane whilst I fully heal. I can feel myself growing stronger almost every day, but it will take some time before I am anything like I was before the fall." Bran's face was almost happy, but there was a mix of something else there that sobered him in a way. If I had to give it a name, I would call it determination.

I could feel his eyes on me, looking for my reaction. I was lost for words on what to say to his story, but felt I had to say something. I expect my thoughts were written clearly on my face.

"You needn't say anything, Alianor." Bran said quietly, taking my hand and smoothing a finger over the back of it. I nodded once in acknowledgement and stared at the ground, thinking through Bran's story and unable to shake the feeling that something had to be said. I finally decided what.

"You're brave." I all but whispered, still looking at the ground. Bran's hand tightened a little around mine and I felt him turn towards me. When I looked up, I was met with a look of curiosity.

"How so?" Bran asked.

"You let him try to heal you." I answered plainly. "Even though you were scared."

Bran looked surprised for a moment before he spoke again.

"How do you know I was scared?"

"I'd be worried if you weren't. I wouldn't _believe_ you if you said you weren't. He was the final person you were willing to speak to about healing you. If he turned out to be a fraud and his offers false, you would think there was no hope in you ever walking again. You say you resigned yourself to never walking again, but the fact that you gave in to Lady Sansa's pleading shows me that you still held some hope that you might have a chance at being healed.

You let him try regardless of what might have happened, or rather not happen. You did that, despite being scared. I call that brave." I explained. Bran opened his mouth as if to speak, then closed it again, relaxing his grip on my hand.

"When I was young, my father said that the only time a man can be brave is when he is scared." He told me, playing with my fingers, weaving them loosely with his between us and squeezing them gently.

"Your father sounds like he was a wise man." I replied, smiling softly.

"He was. He was the most honourable man I have ever known. I wish every day that I had somehow paid more attention when I was young. I never thought I would have to be the Lord of Winterfell, so I never learned half the things Robb did. He listened to father; knew what was expected of him. I just ran around the roofs above them. I know I could have learnt a lot more from my father." He said, his voice sounding strangely hollow. He was watching our hands as I had done earlier, his hair obscuring his face just enough that I couldn't see his eyes.

I held his hand tighter, wanting to do something for him, but not knowing what. He sighed deeply and looked up, not meeting my eyes, but looking out over the pond. From beside him I could only see his profile, and how his jaw was set hard.

"He left Winterfell for King's Landing at the before the wars had even properly begun. He was to be King Robert's Hand. I was meant to accompany him and my sisters there. Rickon was too young to go with us, my mother wanted to keep him with her a while longer. Robb had to stay and be Warden of the North in our father's place. I fell right before we were set to leave. I was still asleep when the left. He was killed by Joffrey Baratheon before I ever saw him again." Bran said, an underlying tone of sadness more apparent in his voice, which had gotten quieter by the time he finished speaking.

I struggled to find something so say; nothing I could think of seemed like the right thing to say. So I thought back to how Orla used to comfort me when I was upset back in Starfall. I moved a little closer to him and wound my arms around his waist. I felt Bran stiffen in surprise for a second, before he relaxed and brought the arm nearest to me around my shoulders and pulled me a little closer until I was pressed against his side.

We sat like that for a long while until Bran broke the comfortable silence.

"Are you happy here, Alianor?"

I pulled back slightly at the question and grinned at him.

"Of course. You have all been incredibly welcoming. Arya and Meera let me train with them, you've shown me the direwolves, this clearing, the sun-rise, the glade in the woods…" I rattled off. "I can't remember the last time anything like all of that happened at Starfall. I spend most of my time hiding from the people of my father's court in my father's library or his orchards when I'm there. I've had no such need to do anything like that here." I announced happily. Bran looked pleased with my answer and pulled me back closer to him.

"Good, I wouldn't want you to be unhappy here." He said, and I could hear the smile in his voice. "May I ask you something else, Alianor?"

"Yes, what is it?"

"When you are at Starfall, where do you train with bows and arrows? I assume you don't use the archery training grounds, if it took that much effort for your mother to let you train here. Does your family know you can shoot?" He asked. I froze by his side.

**Seven Hells, how did he figure out I could use a bow and arrow?!**

_He asked you earlier which target you used when you were shooting with Arya and Meera. Maybe that has something to do with it. Here's a revolutionary idea, why don't you_ ask _him? _The snarky voice in my head replied. I heeded it's words for once.

"How do you know I can even use a bow and arrow, Bran?"

"When I asked you earlier which target you used. I was in the Great Keep, speaking with Jojen. He mentioned that you, Arya and Meera were just entering the training grounds, so I went to see how you were doing.

You can see the arena from the top floors of the keep. I could only see your targets, but as you began shooting, you were all hitting the targets' centres. My question was simply to know if you actually shot an arrow when you went with them that day.

Since I now know you did, and no arrow I saw fired truly missed its target, I'm assuming you were a proficient archer like Meera and my sister and had prior training. You could just be naturally talented, of course…" Bran said, raising an eyebrow at me, as if waiting for me to contest anything he had said.

That thought had crossed my mind briefly, but I quickly realised that my secret was hardly much of a secret here at Winterfell. There was no way Bran would use the knowledge that I trained at Starfall against me; with everything he had just confided in me, I felt I could trust him with this at least.

"I train in my father's orchards. I also taught myself to fight with swords and daggers, but I'm not all that great with them. My family know nothing of my activities, and Orla helps me keep it that way. I told Arya and Meera this, before we started training so they wouldn't think they had to teach me."

Bran looked strangely happy with my answer. He turned to face me, crossing his legs like I had when we first sat down.

"So you enjoy things like that, then? Shooting, sword-fighting and such?" He asked, almost excitedly. I nodded in response, amused at his reaction.

"Gods, you really aren't like other ladies, are you?" He muttered more to himself than to me.

"I suppose not." I replied with a grin. He leaned back on his hands and looked at me.

"Have you ever been hunting?" Bran enquired.

"Yes and no. I was allowed to go riding with Orla around the grounds surrounding Starfall, but there was never much to shoot. More often than not, I would just use the thin trees as targets whilst I rode Des. The mountains around Starfall are fairly void of large game. Wild boar are sometimes spotted and hunted, but they are much farther out than I can ride. The most I've shot are hares, which Orla cooks for us before we return from our ride, but even they are few. Besides, I don't shoot so I can hunt, exactly; I just love having something that's mine. Something my sisters and mother would never do, and I can focus on.

The most my family had planned for my sisters were good marriages. When I visit them, all they seem to do is sit around with other women and talk. That's all my mother ever seems to do as well. I like having something that gives me a purpose. It distracts me from the thought of living my life as just someone's wife. I fear I'd go mad if all my day consisted of was gossiping and perfecting my stitching."

Bran nodded at my response, seemingly thinking over my words for a moment or two.

"Well, now you know the biggest secret I have. Not a very well kept one, since I've come to Winterfell. Three people have learned of it in so many days. Life in Starfall is not exactly one filled with intrigue and secrecy." I joked. "Do you think we should be going back for dinner? We've been in here a while." I observed, noticing that the sun was a lot further along in the sky than when we had first entered.

"Yes, we should. Come on. I think we both need to tidy up a bit before we go." Bran smiled, nodding to the smudges of dirt that dotted my dress and his tunic. He got up and grabbed his cane, before offering me a hand and pulling me up too. We made our way back through the Godswood quickly and out the oak doors.

"You don't need to bring me back to my chambers; you must go and get ready yourself. I can get there well enough on my own this time." I told Bran, nodding to the guest quarters near us.

"As you wish." He replied, sounding vaguely reluctant, most likely realising we didn't have the time for him to fight me on the matter and then escort me to my chambers if he won. "Farewell, Alianor."

"Farewell, Bran." I answered, before turning and walking towards my quarters to get ready for dinner. It wouldn't be incredibly easy without Orla, but as long as I didn't choose a dress that required lacing down the back, I could manage without her for one evening at least.

* * *

We started off with a FRIENDS reference for a title, and ended with another author's note apologising for the wait. Sorry it has taken so long to update, life was acting like a fussy little toddler and demanded to be dealt with. Throw in a lack of access to my laptop for over a week and you get this late update. Sorry. :(

But I promise, I will go above and beyond to make sure the next update won't take nearly as long. :) I hope you at least enjoyed this chapter, which was a bit more centered around explaining Bran details than anything else. But comment, critique or correct as you wish in the reviews section telling me what you think if you want.

Have a great time in whatever time zone you live in and DFTBA,

Jennifer XO


	12. Family Dinner

Chapter 11: Family Dinner

On entering my chambers, I had heard the very faint sounds of light snoring coming from Orla's room next-door. I smiled to myself, glad that she had gotten a decent rest today. I wonder what she did all day since she didn't have to run around after me. It couldn't be all that easy being my maid-servant. I moved about my room as quietly as I could, so as not to accidentally wake her. A day off from working would hopefully have done her some good.

I found a bowl of cold rose-water on my dressing table in my chambers and quickly washed off any dirt that was stuck to me from the glade. After picking out all the twigs still left in my hair and wrestling with a dress that had one too many underskirts, I was finally washed and dressed, ready to go to dinner.

Only a few moments after I had finished brushing out the last tangles in my hair, a loud rap came at my door.

"Are you ready yet, Alianor?" Meera's voice called from the other side of the door. I put down the brush and went to open the door.

"Yes, I am." I shut the door behind me and followed after her as she started slowly back down the hallway.

"I've been sent to be your escort for this evening, my lady. Care to join me?" Meera smirked, presenting her arm to me.

"I'd be honoured." I replied, grinning and taking her arm. I could feel a small pit of nervousness settling in my stomach as we walked, but I did my best to ignore it.

"So, you had fun on your ride with Bran and Anna today I hear?" She said conversationally. "Anna won't stop talking about you. She was telling Arya and I all about your tales from Dorne. Apparently you're the "greatest story-teller ever." That's a high praise indeed, if it's coming from Anna Stark." She added with a small laugh.

"Hardly the best ever, but I'm glad she liked them. She's a sweet child."

"Aye, she is. A pain in the arse at times, yes, but a sweet child nonetheless." Meera grinned as she spoke. "I always miss her when go back to Greywater Watch. Everything seems too quiet without her around."

"I thought you lived here at Winterfell?" I asked, confused.

"We do live here, most of the year at least. But our father is getting older and we visit him as often as we can. Usually it is only three or four times a year, but I know Jojen misses it there. Though he misses Winterfell even more if we stay away too long." She explained. I nodded, letting out a small "oh."

"Do you miss Starfall at all? I don't suppose you've been away long enough to know."

"Not really, no. The only thing I miss about Starfall is our library. Everything else I can find here at Winterfell. Places to ride, places to shoot, places to walk. The only real differences between Starfall and Winterfell are the food, company and weather. And I'm finding I prefer all three here in the North."

"You prefer the cold to the warmth of the South?" Meera asked incredulously.

"Strangely, yes. It was always too hot at Starfall, and the humidity was suffocating on hotter days. Besides, Winterfell isn't all that cold, though, granted, I have yet to experience it in winter. But as of now, I prefer it to Starfall."

"I guess that makes sense. Though you're the first Southron lady to visit here and say you _like_ the weather. Most complain." Meera chuckled, rolling her eyes. "But then again, you don't exactly seem like other the Southron ladies I've had the pleasure of meeting." She said cheerfully, to which I smiled.

"Thank you. So who's going to be at dinner tonight?" I asked.

"You, me, Bran, Anna, Jojen, Sansa, Tyrion, Arya, Gendry, Rickon and Alyce." Meera rattled off the list for me. It appeared this truly _was_ an intimate dinner. "I don't think you've met Rickon and Alyce yet, have you Alianor?"

"No, not yet. I've seen them on previous nights at dinner, I'm sure, but I haven't introduced myself yet."

"Well, you'll be meeting them tonight. Rickon is a very kind man, and Alyce is the gentlest woman you could ever hope to meet. So you can stop looking so nervous." She said softly.

Her words surprised me. I didn't know I looked nervous, though admittedly I was a little anxious about the dinner, only because I was worried I would do something stupid in front of everyone. Anything I did would be noticed, given that so few people would be there.

"Right, sorry. I just don't want to do something stupid and embarrass myself in front of everyone." I told her honestly.

"Relax, Alianor. Nothing will go wrong, and even if it does, most people there won't care. Anna, Arya and I all think you're lovely. Bran evidently thinks you're something special," She grinned wickedly, raising her eyebrows briefly as she said that particular sentence, making me blush. "And as far as I know, none of the others have a problem with you. Besides, you'll be sitting at a table that also seats Anna Stark. You wouldn't be the only one to do something silly over the course of the evening, I can guarantee you." She laughed.

She had comforted me somewhat, but the small bundle of nerves was still there. I just ignored them like I had in the first place. We had walked from the Guest quarters to the Armory and were now crossing the bridge to the Great Keep by this time. I briefly looked down into the large courtyard below, watching servants scurry to and fro.

It was a little while before anything else was said between Meera and I as we quickly made our way through the Great Keep. She led me through a maze of stairwells and hallways until we arrived at a large set of oaken doors.

"Where are Bran's chambers?" I finally asked, after I lost count of the number of turns we had made. I had no chance of getting out of the Great Keep on my own by now.

"We aren't truly eating in Bran's chambers, as they aren't big enough for that, but they're over there, since you asked." she said, motioning to a smaller set of doors to our right. "We're actually eating in his private solar, through these doors. Come on."

With that, she grabbed my arm and led me through the doors, pushing the right half of them open with surprising ease.

The room we entered was beautifully decorated. The high ceiling and tall windows gave it an airy, spacious feeling, as well as a South-facing view over the courtyard and the Great Hall. A large fireplace to our left belted out heat into the room, keeping it warm. Tiles spread out before it, catching the cinders that occasionally fell from the large wooden logs that lay amongst the flames.

Beautifully woven wall hangings filled the spaces between the windows, and on the wall above the hearth. A simple wooden table took up a large part of the right half of the room, looking as though it could seat around ten people comfortably.

To our left were some settles, covered in thick cushions and furs. Carpets and other furs littered the floor, covering the grey stone floors almost entirely. Another smaller fireplace was on the left hand wall.

I could see Sansa and Tyrion seated on one of the settles, speaking quietly and quickly to one another. Tyrion seemed to be unharmed, so I assumed his plan to avoid Sansa until she had calmed down a bit had worked. Arya's husband Gendry and Rickon Stark were talking over by the smaller hearth, both holding goblets that they occasionally drank from.

I saw Arya with a woman, seated side by side in two chairs, both leaning towards one another as they spoke. I could only see the woman from the back, her light brown hair kept long and her ears protruding slightly from under the waves, but I guessed she was Lady Alyce.

I looked around for Bran, but the only other people I saw were Jojen and Anna. Anna was seated in Jojen's lap, fiddling with a small wooden sword she was holding. Her eyes were wide as she spoke to him, flinging the hand and arm that wasn't holding the sword into the air at varying intervals. She looked so animated and happy.

Jojen sat there patiently, smiling ever so slightly as he listened to her. It was a sweet sight, only disturbed when Anna looked over at the door for a second, spotting me as she did so.

She wasted no time in jumping off Jojen's lap, a look of surprise crossing his face as she used her arms to push off from his chest to do so. Anna then proceeded to sprint across the room towards me, both arms outstretched as if to hug me. Sword still in hand, and aimed almost directly at my stomach, the way she was holding it as she ran.

Thankfully, however, my brain was working that day. She was a few feet away by the time my mouth opened.

"STOP!" I yelled, placing both hands far in front of me and closing my eyes tightly, in case I had to physically stop her before she got too close. My yell garnered the immediate attention of everyone in the room. Anna skidded to a halt in shock, looking incredibly confused.

"Sword down, then hug." I said simply, opening my eyes wide and staring at her sword, which, although not exactly sharp, would hurt like hell if it was jabbed into my side if she hugged me after running at that speed. I heard a faint regular tapping sound behind me.

Her mouth opened in realisation, before she dropped the sword and looked at me with a sheepish grin, before closing the gap and raising her arms upwards. I understood what she wanted immediately and picked her up for the second time that day, placing her on my hip as I did so. She found her usual position of wrapping her little arms around my neck. I squeezed her back around the waist for a moment, and then left one arm there to keep her from falling and relaxed the other.

"What have I told you about not being careful with that sword, Anna? You can lift it up, so I will teach you how to use it, but you have to be more careful." Arya reprimanded Anna. Anna buried her face into my neck to hide from her mother's words, though Arya was looking at Anna fondly, rather than angrily. I muffled "sorry" came from the small child in my arms. I felt her turn her head to peek at her mother and she came up from her hiding place with a giant grin on her face when she saw that she wasn't mad at her.

Anna then turned to me, her large brown eyes sparkling and wide.

"Did you see my sword, Ally? That's mama's training sword, and I can lift it up properly now. I've been trying really hard for ages and I finally did it today! Just after I had lunch with you and Uncle Bran. She's going to start teaching me how to use it tomorrow!" She beamed.

"That's wonderful, Anna! I'm sure you're going to be a great swords-woman." I replied, truly happy for the little girl. I would have loved to have a mother who could teach me something like that as a child. Arya looked almost as pleased as Anna did about the prospect of sharing her knowledge, watching Anna proudly as she sat in my arms and started to me all the things she already knew about swords. She stopped mid-sentence suddenly, as though she remembered something.

"Where is Uncle Bran, Ally?" Anna asked me suddenly, staring at her sword on the floor as she did so. "And when is the food coming?" She whispered to me, but it was a child's whisper. So I'm sure everyone had heard her.

"I don't know. I thought he would be here by now." I replied, looking around the room quickly for Bran, before walking over to her sword and picking it up. I handed it back to her, hoping I wouldn't incur any injuries for doing so.

"I'm here Anna. Food will be coming momentarily." Bran's voice came from right behind us as he entered through the already open doors, placing his hand on the small of my back.

As he spoke, servants started appearing through another set of doors and began laying trays of food on the table. A large roasted boar was the first dish to be set upon the table, with smaller bowls filled with other things set around it.

The others in the room made their way over to the table and began to sit down around it. Bran's hand fell away as he made his way over to the far end of the table.

"Ally, go and sit next to Uncle Bran. There are two seats next to him." Anna urged, leaning past me and pointing to two empty chairs to Bran's right hand side. I did as she asked, placing her on the floor as I stood behind the chairs. She quickly scrambled into the one next to her mother, leaving me with the one to Bran's immediate right.

Bran was at the head of the table by now, and pulled out my chair for me, smiling as I said "thank you, my king" and sat down.

By the time everyone was seated, the table was covered in spreads of food. As we started eating, Bran leaned over to me and whispered;

"Just so you know, this isn't a formal dinner; titles aren't needed. You don't need to use "my king", "my lord" or "my lady" after every sentence tonight. You are here as a friend, not a guest."

I nodded in acknowledgement, smiling at the thought that Bran thought of me as a friend.

_The man has tried to kiss you. I think he thinks of you as a little more than a friend, wouldn't you say? _My brain drawled lazily in my head.

**I'm not going to assume anything. Who knows, maybe he kisses all his friends**. **People in Dorne kiss one another on the cheek to greet each other all the time. **I reply lamely.

_On the cheek. Do you really think Bran was aiming for your cheek? But I'm sure you're right… Bran must constantly almost-kiss his friends whilst sitting on the ramparts of Winterfell watching a beautiful sunrise. Or standing outside their rooms late at night in moonlit hallways, pressed up against a door._ _I imagine it happens_ all _the time._ My brain bit back sarcastically. I knew my brain had won this time, as a blush filled my cheeks.

**Alright, so Bran thinks of me as more than a friend. I can believe that, I suppose. But I'm not going to be so innocent as to assume anything just yet. If gossip I've heard my mother's ladies has taught me anything, I know well enough that love does not always follow friendship.**

I could feel my brain smirking at me for some reason. I gave an inward huff of frustration.

_Curious thought_… The voice faded away once I decided to ignore it.

I re-joined the real world in that moment, reaching out and placing food on my plate like everyone else was. Conversation flowed easily around me, random bouts of laughter coming from members of the small party every now and then. They were sharing stories from the past few days with one another. I wasn't quite sure what I could talk about. They seemed so familiar with each other that I felt a little lost among them. But I was content to simply listen. I had noticed that Bran didn't speak much either, he was just listening to whatever was being said as well, a small smile on his face as he ate.

Tyrion and Sansa were seated on the opposite side of the table, two seats down from Bran. Jojen and Meera were on Bran's left-hand side, directly opposite Anna and I. I watched as Tyrion and Sansa began whispering to each other as they had done when I first entered the room. It appeared as though they were debating something, quite heatedly, if the hushed hisses that made their way to me across the table were anything to go by. This carried on for some time, other conversations drowning them out every so often.

Apparently Bran had noticed their whispered conversation too, as well as Sansa's increasingly irritated face. The rest of the talking around the table lulled for a moment, and a distinct whisper of; "We are telling them here and now, and that's final," came from Sansa. Tyrion let out an exasperated sigh and slumped back slightly in his chair, picking up his wine glass and taking a rather large gulp of it.

"Sansa, Tyrion. Is there something you'd like to share with the rest of us?" Bran inquired carefully, no doubt noting the red-hot glare Sansa was currently aiming at her husband. I expect he didn't wish to be on the receiving end of it himself.

But when Sansa looked away from Tyrion, her face smoothed out into a serene smile, barely contained excitement in her eyes.

"Yes. Yes there is something we would like to share. Tell them, Tyrion." She stated, straightening up in her chair and looking at Tyrion. He looked back at her, sighed, and then turned to us.

"We are expecting a child." He said, trying not to smile, but failing miserably.

"Congratulations!" Arya all but yelled, getting up quickly and walking around to embrace Sansa. Similar sentiments echoed around the table, and Bran stood up and made his way over to his sister, before wrapping his arms around her too, once Arya had released her.

"What were you whispering so angrily about, then? This is wonderful news." Bran asked after he had pulled away and the siblings returned to their seats.

"Oh, that. Tyrion wanted to wait until the last feast before we left to make the announcement."

"Only because that way we could be done with it in one fell swoop. Now not only must we announce it all over again some other time, but people will want to speak with us." He replied, his eyes wide as he argued his point futilely to his wife.

"But that is hardly so troublesome to do, is it?" Sansa sighed exasperatedly.

"It is when every lord, lady, knight and maiden currently visiting Winterfell would wish to congratulate us in person right after. If we had waited to our final feast, we could have excused ourselves early, before they could line up to do so. We could have said you were tired, due to your... fragile state? Or that we wished to rest before our ride back to King's Landing… The excuses were endless…." Tyrion muttered loudly enough for us all to hear. Sansa's cheeks flushed red in anger very briefly, but she took a deep breath and her shoulders visibly relaxed.

"Well, it's too late now. We've told them. It would be in bad faith to not tell my own family I was with child before leaving." She smirked triumphantly.

"Does this mean I'm going to have a cousin, Auntie Sansa?" Anna asked sweetly, kneeling up on her chair to look over the large boar that obstructed her view of the other side of the table.

"Yes, Gods willing, it hopefully will." She beamed back. Anna grinned from ear to ear as she collapsed back into her chair and crossed her legs in the chair. I only just noticed how big the chair was to her.

The rest of the evening was spent discussing the announcement for a while, until the topic meandered onto telling me stories about Anna when she was much younger. Unsurprisingly, there were many to choose from, with everyone at the table having at least half a dozen they knew of, each funnier or more frightening than the last.

Alyce and Rickon were every bit as kind and lovely as Meera had said, with Alyce offering to have me send some time with her and Sansa, should I ever tire of the rest of what Winterfell had to offer. She was a sweet, timid woman, her voice soft and earnest as she spoke.

Rickon was her immediate masculine counter-part. He was warm and friendly, easy to laugh and very easy to carry a conversation with. Whenever he looked at Alyce, which was fairly often throughout the evening, there was deep affection in his eyes. They were a charming couple to meet and observe.

A long while later, Arya finished regaling us with a tale of how Gendry once left a practise sword lying around their chambers, only to return from fetching food for a teething baby Anna to find her chewing the hilt of the sword. It was getting quite late by this point, and we had long finished eating. I could feel my eyelids getting heavier as I felt sleepier and sleepier.

Anna had been allowed to stay up later than usual, according to Gendry, but she eventually fell asleep, nestled between her father and I on one of the settles.

Once Arya had finished her story, she announced that they were going to bed. Gendry picked up Anna and they took their leave. They were soon followed by Sansa, Tyrion, Rickon and Alyce, who all decided it was time to turn in for the night as well. Final embraces and well wishes were shared as they left.

I was left in the company of the Reeds and Bran for another hour or so, listening to them as they spoke. Meera was telling us about the hunt they had been on that day in order to catch the boar we ate. Apparently, a new addition to their hunting party had failed to secure his saddle and had fallen from his horse. The noise spooked the boar and it had run almost right into their path. She also told Bran they had spotted some wolves near the edge of the woods. Somewhere during that story I fell asleep. I was awoken by Meera gently shaking my shoulder.

"Alianor, wake up. Come on, wake up." I was still sitting upright on the settle, but my head had fallen to the side and back as I slept, so I woke up looking at the ceiling. I blushed a little, and wiped at my mouth in case I had drooled. I hadn't, I was pleased to discover.

"Sleep well?" An amused Bran smirked at me from a chair nearby. I nodded and stretched my arms to the sides slightly, before covering my mouth and yawning.

"Are we really so boring that we sent you to sleep, Alianor?" Jojen asked, raising an eyebrow, a small smile tugging at his lips to let me know he was joking.

"Of course not. I'm just tired from the day's activities, I suppose." I replied tiredly, sending him a smile in return.

"Yes, spending the best part of your day with Anna _does _sound fairly exhausting." Meera laughed.

"I believe I will bring Alianor back to her quarters. Will you be staying up longer?" Bran said, looking at Jojen and Meera.

"No, I think I'll retire as well." Jojen replied. Meera nodded in agreement.

"Alright, goodnight then." Bran said, getting up, grabbing his cane from the floor and coming over to me. He helped me up and led me out of the doors, back into the hallways of Winterfell.

"Did you enjoy your evening?" He asked as we made our way back through the Great Keep.

"Yes, very much so. You family and the Reeds are lovely people. I can't imagine my family sitting down and eating with one another so intimately. It was nice." I said truthfully.

"I'm glad. I much prefer smaller dinners like that. I understand that it wouldn't be wise to be seen as an absent King and eat in my solar _all_ the time, but every now and then I feel like I need to just speak with the people closest to me without the rest of the world listening in." He admitted.

"I can understand that." I replied, still feeling tired, so my responses felt somewhat slow and simple to me.

I began recognising the hallways we were walking down and realised that we were returning much quicker than Meera had brought me here. I said as much to Bran.

"Meera knows Winterfell well, but she didn't grow up here as a child. It was very useful to know how to get around the Keep quickly and quietly. I still know a few shortcuts."

"Oh, I see." Came my reply. I felt my brain working even slower as I felt more and more tired.

Once we were crossing the bridge back to the Armory, I saw the Great Hall was empty now, most of the servants retired for the night. I felt Bran's arm move from its crooked position to straight, making me let go of it as it did so. Then I felt his hand clasp mine instead, my own hand warming quickly from the tingling sensation that always followed him touching me.

"I was wondering… I know we've been on a few rides already during your stay, but would you like you join me on another tomorrow? I want to take you somewhere." Bran asked, helping me over a fallen helmet on the Armory floor.

"Of course, I'd love to. Where are we going?"

"That's a surprise. But you may want to wear the clothes Arya lent you when you trained with her and Meera. It would make life easier for you tomorrow if you did." He informed me, grinning a little.

"You know, I am much too trusting with you Bran Stark. I let you take me places, far away from anywhere else, in the middle of woods and forests, without any real questioning. Wandering off randomly with a boy… My mother would be horrified." I say, doing my best to look like I was serious. We suddenly stopped just as we reached the exit of the Armory.

"A boy? I'm not a boy!" He laughed indignantly, turning to me.

"Really? My apologies, my lady. I assumed you were, given that they call you the _King_ of the North. My mistake." I smirked cheekily. I saw him roll his eyes and heard him breathe out quickly through his nose in mock-frustration.

"I _meant _I am a _man_, not a _boy_." He stated, but I could hear a smile in his voice. "But, when you say it like that, it _does_ sound rather sinister. I prefer to think of it another way." He said with, laughter in his words.

"And what way is that?" I asked, fighting a yawn.

"I like to think of it as rescuing you. From a day of boredom, sewing in a small room and listening to stories and songs about handsome princes and dashing knights. At least, that's what Arya always complained about when she had to spend extended amounts of time with Sansa during the day. They get along better now than they did when we were younger, but she still finds all of those things dull when she has to do them every so often. Some things never change."

"Rescuing me… I guess that is a relatively fitting term to use. Saved by King Bran from a terrible fate... Sewing with his lovely sister!" I called out dramatically, whilst flinging the back of my hand to my forehead with a flourish (and narrowly missing hitting some armour hanging from a nearby workbench in the Armory as I did so). I felt the tiredness rush back quickly after the minor exertion of the act.

"Mock me if you must, but as I recall, you seem to enjoy following me when I lead you into these dark, scary woods and forests." He said, a knowing look on his face. I started to blush and nodded slowly.

"That is very true." I accepted, turning to our left, starting to walk again and doing my best to hide my blush. It was only when I was stopped a couple of steps away that I realised Bran was still holding my hand.

"I was hardly going to let you run away when I've finally brought a perfectly good blush to your face, Alianor. You look so beautiful when you blush." He whispered, walking up beside me and turning me slightly to look at my face. I felt my cheeks burn even hotter, and I was now fairly certain I would match Tyrion's red doublet if he was standing next to me. Bran closed the already small gap between us, looking down at me with his beautiful dark eyes. I felt the small of my back brush against the wooden rim on the sides of the bridge

I suddenly felt a yawn approaching and quickly brought my arm between us and covered my mouth with my wide sleeve and hand to stifle it. Bran took a small step back and kept his grasp on my hand.

"Come on, you're exhausted." He said tenderly, smiling softly. He started to walk again and pulling me along. I trailed behind him like a small child would, trying to rub the sleep from my eyes with my other hand.

The rest of the walk ended quickly, as there wasn't far to go, and only a few staircases to climb. We found ourselves outside of my door in no time, the situation feeling remarkably like the last time Bran returned me to my chambers. Only this time, I was almost dead on my feet. I could feel myself swaying slightly from the tiredness.

"You know…" Bran started, speaking quietly and walking closer to me and leaning his cane on the wall to my side, before wrapping his hands around my waist. "…I would really like to kiss you right now." He pulled me closer to him, glancing at the door very quickly, as though expecting Orla to open it like she did last time. To be honest, I was expecting the same thing. One of his hands moved to my upper back, whilst the other wound around my lower back. But I was focusing most of my attentions on Bran and keeping my eyes open. My eyelids felt like lead weights were attached to them by now.

"I would…like…" I tried to reply, but my mouth felt like there was wool inside of it, and my words came haltingly. I gave up on speaking for the moment and let out a deep breath I didn't know I was holding. My head fell forward onto Bran's chest, my forehead resting there as I wrapped my arms around his waist. I wanted to be close to him, and this seemed an easy way to go about that for the moment.

Bran stiffened in surprise for less than a second, before changing his grip around my upper and lower back to form a proper embrace around me. I turned my head against his chest and brought my cheek against it instead. He was so warm and comforting that I held on a little tighter and let out a small, content sigh.

"Alright, change of plan. I think I'm going to try and finally kiss you tomorrow instead. What you need right now is sleep." Bran laughed quietly. I thought of making a noise to tell him otherwise. I really wanted to kiss him. But the fact that I couldn't will myself to move from my comfortable place against him, paired with how tired I was, overpowered that thought. Instead I nodded against his chest and mumbled something nonsensical in agreement.

Bran somehow managed to prise me off him for a moment and moved one arm from around me to open the door to my chambers. He then steered me easily around using his other arm and through the door. I didn't hear him grab his cane, but he managed to lead me further into my chambers without it. He sat me down on the bed and went to the door to Orla's room. I lay down on top of the sheets on my bed to rest for a moment.

The faint sound of Orla's door opening and a muffled conversation swam through the back of my mind as I began to fall asleep. I felt someone kneel down beside my bed and that began speaking.

"Orla's going to help you get ready for bed, Alianor. You can sleep as long as you like tonight, just send word when you wake up. We'll ride out an hour from whenever that may be. Goodnight, Alianor." I heard Bran say to me, before I felt something warm and soft touch my forehead briefly. I realised it must have been Bran kissing me there.

"G'night, Bran." I mumbled back, smiling a little in my half-sleep state. His deep chuckled filled my ears, before he stood up and I heard him walk out. The door clicked shut behind him and Orla went about helping me out of my dress and into my nightclothes.

"There you go, Lady. Sleep well." Orla whispered as she pulled back the covers and I fell into the bed.

"You too, Orla." Were my last words before blessed sleep overtook me.

* * *

There we are, an update within 10 days! A little bit of an improvement on the last few times. This is sort of a filler chapter, but as you can see, some other characters get a bit of attention in this one. :) Hope you enjoyed reading it, and don't forget to comment, critique or correct in the reviews section if you want to/liked it.

DFTBA and XO,

Jennifer


	13. When It Rains

Chapter 12: When It Rains

The next morning I awoke to the sun already high in the sky and a tuneful humming filling the room. I opened my eyes to see Orla bustling about my chambers as usual, the noise coming directly from her. She seemed relaxed and happy, a small smile on her face as she laid out my clothing for the day. She was almost bouncing as she walked about my chambers, an obvious spring in her step.

"Good morning, Lady. Did you sleep well?" She beamed, glancing over to me with a bright smile. I sat up in bed and stretched, dispelling the lagging sleepiness from my body.

"Yes, very well, thank you. You're awfully cheery today. I should give you a day to yourself more often." I observed, feeling guilty that her rest had made this much of a difference in her, but pleased that it had done her so much good. I wondered if I over-worked her, though she never seemed particularly tired. Nevertheless, the thought made me feel even worse.

"Oh no, Lady. That was enough of a rest for me. I already have an easier time than any other servant in your father's household. Any easier and I would never lift a finger." She laughed, looking at me with amused disbelief at my suggestion. I still couldn't shake the guilt entirely, so I looked at my bed-sheets and contemplated getting out of bed.

Orla and Bran had one thing in common at least. They can both read me with startling ease. I heard Orla sigh, and she walked over to me.

"Whatever you're thinking, Lady, you can stop. I enjoy my life with you and there isn't any King, Queen, Lady or Lord who could offer me better." She smiled, pulling the bed-covers from me and ushering me from the bed. I returned her smile, somewhat comforted by her words.

"Anyhow, we need to get you ready to go and meet your King." She smirked at me. "Last night was rather interesting from where I was standing, Lady. Anything you wish to tell me?" Her smirk was accompanied by a single raised eyebrow. I blushed and looked around at anything but her.

"No, I think you probably understand the situation well enough." I said, my voice sounding more sheepish than I would have liked. I could feel her let out a small sound of victory and she started moving about the room again. "The clothing you wore the other day has been washed and dried since, so once you've washed and I've finished with your hair, you can put them on." She told me as she fussed with my pillows and bed-spread.

I nodded in reply, sitting down by my looking glass and table. The next half hour or so was filled with rose-water, hair-brushes, braiding and dressing. I was ready with time to spare, thanks to Orla's help and efficiency in pulling my unruly morning hair into some sort of order. I spent the rest of the time reading one of the books I had brought with me from home as I waited for someone to collect me and take me to wherever Bran was waiting.

I ate some food that Orla had brought up for me from the kitchens as I waited. Hot bread, honey, blackberries and mint tea made up my breakfast this morning. I was relieved I had the chance to eat before I left to see Bran. I didn't want a repeat of yesterday if I could help it.

I had only brought about five books with me, as I only brought four trunks with me, and the books took up half of one of them. Four trunks wasn't an awful lot, at least once compared with the twelve belonging to my mother, or the average of eight or so that her ladies each brought with them.

Orla always jokes that I only need half the number of trunks, since my dresses used about half the amount of fabric as the other ladies. Being shorter than most Dornish women had some benefits, I suppose.

As expected, exactly an hour from the time I had woken up, a knock sounded at my door. I got up from my position seated on my bed and opened it.

Somewhat surprisingly, Bran himself stood before me. I had been expecting a servant or another member of his household to be the one to collect me, but I was pleased to find that was not to be the case.

"Good morning, Alianor. You look lovely." He said, his eyes sweeping quickly up and down by outfit. To my further surprise my usual blush didn't make an appearance at the compliment and look. Instead, I was able to simply smile at him.

"Thank you, Bran. As do you."

Bran let out a small bark of laughter and leant against outer stones that made up the frame of the doorway. I only just noticed that he was taller than the lintel above the door, so he would have had to stop to enter my room. The comical image of Bran walking into the door frame suddenly entered my mind, making me let out a small laugh, admittedly followed by some guilt.

Thankfully, Bran seemed to think I was laughing at my own comment, not at something new, so he didn't question my laugh.

"Are you ready to leave yet, or do you need some more time?" He asked, looking around my room briefly, nodding a greeting to Orla as he saw her.

"Lady Alianor is ready, my King." Orla said, grabbing a bag from a chair beside her that was no doubt filled with more food from Winterfell's kitchens and held it to her chest.

Bran nodded once, and took up my right hand in his left. He proceeded to pull me gently from my chambers and we made our way through the Guest Quarters to the main courtyard. Orla followed silently behind us, carrying the pack of food. She suddenly stopped and emitted a small "oh!"

"Lady, we forgot your cloak. I'll go back and get it and join you later on." She said in a rush, already heading back the way we had just come.

"Alright..." I replied to her retreating back, but she was already out of earshot. I turned back to Bran and we continued walking.

"So, where are we going today? Or is this going to be yet another of your surprises?" I asked Bran.

"Another surprise, I'm afraid. Your reactions to the things I show you are too wonderful to forgo by telling you anything." He replied, smiling as he looked ahead.

"And what if I choose to give you no reaction? What if I simply stand there and stare blankly at a tree?" I tease, smirking at him.

"How do you know you'd have a tree to stare at?"

"Because this is the North. I don't think I've been any further than a stone's throw away from a tree the moment we passed the Neck. Everywhere you've taken me so far has had at least one tree there. The Godswood, the Wolfswood, the walls of Winterfell at sunrise… I believe it is safe to assume I will have one to stare at wherever we're going today." I said, grinning at Bran.

"Well, when you put it like that, I'd have to agree that _is_ a safe assumption." Bran laughed, "I can tell you that you _will_ have a tree to stare at, should you wish. But that is all I'm going to tell you." He said, a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth.

I let out a small huff at his last few words, but left the matter alone. By now we had walked beneath the bridge connecting the Armory and the Great Keep and were passing the Guards Hall. A small arch was nestled between the Armory and the Guards Hall, leading into a long passage way.

As we made our way through the arch, the sweet smell of the Godswood filled the air. I looked up to see the tops of the trees in the wood towering over the high stone walls of the passage.

"This leads to the North Gate. We have horses waiting just inside of the gates." Bran told me. I nodded, still craning my neck up and looking at the trees. The ground within the passage was littered with a blanket of leaves that had fallen from the trees, colouring the floor a mottled green.

We arrived at the end of the passage and went through a large door to our right. Bran held it open for me. The door led into a small yard with a gate at the end. Des and two other horses were tethered to two posts just to the side of the large arch that made up the gate.

I heard some faint crunching noises behind me as I walked over to the horses. Bran was off to the side, speaking with what looked like a stable hand. Two other hands were fastening two large, clothed packages to Des and Bran's horse and two round things. They looked like thick shields from where I stood, but the grey fabric covering them hid their true nature.

I wandered over to Des and began checking the fastenings of his saddle. A moment later I felt a tug on my arm.

"Here's your cloak, Lady." She said, handing me the lovely furred cloak. "May I speak with you alone for a moment?" Orla asked, looking nervous. It was a new look for her, one I had never seen as long as I had known her.

I nodded in assent and walked off to the side with her, farther away from the two hands that were still working to fasten the round things to our horses. "Speak freely, you needn't look so nervous, Orla." I said gently. Orla let out a breath and nodded before she began speaking.

"I was wondering if you may permit me to stay behind whilst you go on your ride with the King. I have many chores to do that are left over from yesterday. I could have them done easily before you returned." She said, looking slightly guilty.

"Of course you may. You don't have to look so guilty. I gave you the day off for a reason. You work so hard, and this is a prime example of that. If you believe staying behind would make your life easier, then by all means, stay. I'm sure I can manage without you during the ride." I said, smiling at her.

Orla looked relieved as soon as I spoke and a wide smile appeared on her face.

"Thank you, Lady." She beamed at me. "I believe the King is ready to leave, so I'll do the same. Here's the bag of food with your lunch." She passed the bag to me. "There should be enough for the King as well, if he didn't bring his own. Thank you again, Lady." She said, before rushing back over to the passage door. I put on my cloak and made my way back over to the horses. Bran had already mounted his horse and I followed suit. Soon we were leaving the yard through the gates, riding slowly along a well-worn path further North.

"Orla won't be joining us then?" Bran asked.

"No, she wanted to stay behind and finish up some chores."

"I see. Well, there would have been little for her to do if she had come with us, so that was probably a wise move." He said. I made a noise of agreement.

"So, do these have anything to do with my surprise?" I asked, nodding backwards at the two round things and packages.

"Yes, but you shouldn't bother guessing what they are. I won't confirm or deny anything you say. I already told you this is going to be a surprise. You only have to wait a little bit longer. Where we're going is pretty close." He said with a grin.

"Fine. I'll be patient. But that isn't nearly as fun as interrogating you and trying to get you to give in and tell me." I muttered. The laugh that came from Bran told me he had heard my mutterings.

"I've spent the past three years learning how to resist all forms of incessant questioning. Living with Anna is the perfect test of endurance in such matters, so I'm afraid nothing you could say or do would have made me give in, Alianor." He said, an almost-smug smile on his handsome face.

"Whatever you say." I said airily, smirking at Bran with a raised eyebrow. I turned my head forwards again and tried to see if anything on the horizon could give me an idea of where we were going.

Before I could see anything, Bran veered off to the left, leaving the road and heading somewhere to the west. I steered Des the same way and trotted to catch up with him. I did my best to figure out where we were aiming towards, and eventually decided we were going to some part of the Wolfswood again. It was the only place I knew to be north-west of Winterfell and nearby. And there would be trees there, as Bran had said.

Sure enough, after riding in silence for a short while longer, we crested a small hill and were met with a wall of trees that bled into the Wolfswood.

We entered the wood and spent the next stretch of time ducking under branches and following barely-there trails that Bran seemed to know well. The gentle slope in the ground told me we were riding ever so slightly upwards. The trees that surrounded us were to densely-packed to look back and see how high we were. At least, I hope he did, otherwise we would be hopelessly lost by now.

Eventually, I spotted a few slivers of light among the trees ahead of us. As we drew closer, the slivers turned into obvious gaps and breaks in the trees, most likely leading to another clearing that the Starks seem to have a knack for finding.

Not that I'm complaining. I have yet to have a bad experience in a Stark-found clearing.

Bran stopped just inside the break and dismounted. We rode through the largest of the gaps and exchanged the dim green light of the woods for the fresh, bright light of Bran's latest clearing.

Only this one wasn't like the others. It was much bigger than the others by far. So big, that it was able to accommodate a decent sized lake in the centre. The only part of the clearing not taken up by the lake was a thin strip of land wedged in between the tree line and the water on the either side. The opposite bank was too steep to walk along, covered with tall, thin trees.

The far end of the lake was topped by a small hill. A leaning tree had grown across the hill. It had an abundance of low hanging branches that scraped the ground which created a sort of cave-like shape. We had entered opposite that tree, the strip of land starting where we were standing.

"We're here." He said, smiling at me as he untied the round thing and package from his horse.

"And what exactly _is_ here?" I asked, jumping from Des. Bran had the two objects slung over his shoulders, can in hand. I fastened Des' reins to a nearby tree branch and walked over to Bran.

"This is where I come when I want to practise and I don't want Arya watching my every move. The lake is the source of a tributary that runs into the White Knife. I can't come here during the summer winters, since the river floods and freezes, covering this bit of land." He said grinning, walking down a gentle hill towards the tree-cave at the top of the lake.

"What do you practise?" I asked following him.

"Archery." He replied, dropping the round thing and package. He removed the cloth covering the object to reveal a small straw target. The usual white cloth was pinned to the centre, and a rope had been threaded through the top so it could hang from something. Bran picked it back up from the ground and placed it on a branch to the left of the tree-cave, around shoulder height for him (which was about a head taller than me).

Next, he unwrapped the mystery package, though by now I had figured out that it probably contained a bow and some arrows. I was proven correct as he pulled out a beautiful bow made of some dark wood. It had finely carved thick limbs, and looked to be rather heavy. I realised that I had a target, bow and arrows of my own and quickly ran back over to Des. I untied them and carried them back over to Bran.

I hanged my target on another branch around my own shoulder height before unwrapping my bow and arrows. My bow was different to Bran's. It was made of a deep red wood and was a lot lighter looking. The limbs of my bow were broad, unlike my double-curved bow back at Starfall. I doubted I could shoot on horse-back with any sort of proficiency with this bow, but for use on foot like this it would be perfect.

By now Bran was getting ready to take his first shot, putting on a leather glove on the hand he'd use to draw.

He notched an arrow, but didn't take aim, letting the bow rest facing the ground.

"You said you liked archery the other day, and both Meera and my sister have seen you shoot. I was hoping you'd allow me to see to?" He said, looking a little anxious, as though I would reject his request.

"I don't see why not. I'm not as good as your sister and Meera just yet, but I can usually hit a target." I said smiling at him. "Would you like to go first?" I asked as I notched my own arrow.

"As you wish." He replied, raising his bow and releasing the arrow, all in one fluid motion, only pausing for a brief second to aim. He had obviously had a lot of practise. He hit the target dead on its centre.

I let out a breath I hadn't realised I was holding and took aim myself, bringing the bow in line with my shoulders.

I prayed silently that it would go the same way it had when I first shot with Arya and Meera.

Deep breath…

Steady your arm…

Deep breath…

I released the arrow and watched the target. It landed just off centre. Not a bad shot, but not the perfect hit I had been hoping for.

"Not bad." Bran commented, sounding genuinely impressed.

"Thank you."

"My turn again." He grinned wolfishly at me, already ready with another arrow. He let this one loose and it hit the target just a hairs-breadth away from his last one. The target swung with the impact of the shot, but it stopped quickly as it hit the trunk of the tree just behind it.

I grinned back at Bran and grabbed another of my own arrows from the quiver on my back. I set up my next shot and took aim again. A frustrated sigh followed immediately after I took my shot.

This time the arrow hit a little closer to the exact centre, but it still wasn't the same as the shots Bran was achieving. I often had days like this back at Starfall. It felt like I could hit anywhere within the black dot but its centre. It was just my luck that I would have such a day when Bran wanted to see me shoot.

I could usually shake it after a few tries and good concentration, but that would take some considerable effort with Bran next to me, getting near-perfect shots every time. It was a little intimidating.

Every now and then we would stop shooting and go and collect the arrows, discarding any that were too damaged to re-use.

"You're truly very good, Alianor." Bran said grinning, stepping much closer to me. "Firstly, you have the concept of an anchor completely correct. You always pull to just under your right cheek and you never seem to overdraw. You keep your arms in the right places too, and your motions are fluid, which is wonderful. You taught yourself?" He asked. I nodded, pleased with his comments.

I aimed at the target, standing side-ways on to the target and raised the bow and arrow. I pulled back my hand to my cheek as he had said I did, my fingers curled around the bow-string, holding the arrow in places between my fingers lightly.

"Widen your stance and move your left foot forward." I heard Bran order suddenly.

"Pardon?" I asked Bran, turning to look at him, confused as to what he just said.

He looked a little sheepish. "Sorry, I'm used to instructing our archers with Arya ever now and then. That came out harsher than I wanted. I only meant that the wind is picking up and they get pretty strong in the North. Moving your foot forward with help you balance easier. You may also want to compensate for the wind by aiming a bit to the right when you shoot." He advised in a much softer tone. The other one hadn't bothered me, but it was sweet of him to look so worried.

I did as he instructed and slid my foot into a different position. When Bran didn't correct it, I assumed it was alright.

I looked along the arrow and moved it so it was aimed towards the target as he had said. I aimed at the target for yet another time that day and loosed the arrow. It hit the centre perfectly. That's what I had been missing.

"We should take the arrows out of the targets before we start another round."

I nodded in agreement and we both made our way to the targets.

We were half-way to the arrow-filled targets, Bran slightly behind me, when a drop of water hit my cheek.

Followed by another…and another… Until the sky seemed to open up and rain began to pelt down like a waterfall. Soon I could hear nothing but the roaring sound of the rain attacking the leaves of the trees, the rustling and rushing noises clamouring so loudly that I could only just hear Des and the other horse whinnying from their safe place beneath the trees behind us

Rain didn't usually bother me, but the idea of riding home to Winterfell in wet clothing wasn't an appealing idea. I felt Bran take my right hand.

"Follow me." He called over the hammering rain, his hair already sticking to his face with all the water. I guessed that I probably looked like a drowned rat by now. I could feel Arya's tunic begin to get heavier with the rain, my shoulders already damp.

Bran pulled me along behind him, almost running to the tree at the end of our make-shift firing range.

He led me under its thick canopy and into the dry safety from the rain that it offered. We hadn't been able to run all that fast to the tree because of Bran's leg, so we were both a little more than damp by now, Arya's thick clothes became shapeless when wet.

My small-clothes were still dry, thankfully, so I wasn't too cold. I dropped down onto the ground to sit. Bran did the same next to me, his arm brushing mine. He stretched his leg out and sat back, resting on his hands as he put his cane down against the base of the tree.

"Summer rains." Bran sighed, looking out at the grey-green blur of the trees. "They don't last long, but they come on quickly and heavily."

"I can see that." I replied with a giggle. I picked at my tunic as I felt the rain begin to seep further into my small-clothes, doing my best to keep the two separate.

I eventually gave up and lay back on the mossy ground under the tree with Bran, staring at the green leaves about us. Little droplets of water sometimes made their way through them and dripped around us, but we were sheltered from the worst of the rain under here.

I felt Bran's hand brush the side of my face as he moved a bit of hair that was clinging to my cheek. I turned my head slightly to look at him, sending him a smile in thanks. He was now leaning on his elbow, facing me instead of the rain. He didn't smile back entirely, just a small twitch in the corner of his mouth.

But he did stare at me for a moment, the same unreadable look in his eyes from a few days ago. His left hand was still at my cheek, absentmindedly tracing a line to my chin.

The cave-like shelter suddenly seemed even smaller as Bran's hand moved to cup my cheek and the side of my jaw.

"Do you remember what I said last night, Alianor?" Bran said quietly, his thumb ghosting slowly along my cheek-bone.

"It's quite possible. I wasn't half-asleep for _all_ of it." I replied with a quick grin.

"Do you remember what I said outside your chambers?" He asked, his voice almost a whisper. He leaned down closer towards me. I remembered very clearly what was said outside my chambers, strangely so, given how tired I had been. The memory of hugging Bran was the easiest of all to remember. How warm and safe I had felt resting my head against his chest, and how I hadn't wanted to move. Right now I was cold, damp and increasingly uncomfortable. As soft as the mossy ground was, it didn't help me dry off much.

I pushed the memory away and nodded in reply, not taking my eyes from Bran's. I knew exactly what he was referring to and where this was going.

He said nothing, but his face was now fairly close to mine, but not close enough in my opinion. I could feel the faint warmth of his breath wash over my lips every now and then. His thumb had stopped moving along my cheek.

He stopped his slow advance to look at me for a good long while, that indecipherable look in his eyes. I couldn't help but get a bit impatient. So I took matters into my own hands.

"We've tried this quite a few times already. Something always gets in the way. I've decided it's because you take too long."

A surprised look crossed Bran's face, followed by a short laugh.

"I do, do I? And what do you plan on doing about that? I am King, after all. Surely I can take all the time I want. In fact, I think I'll do just that." He teased, pulling back slightly, as if to prove his point. I decided to call his bluff

"Whatever you say. I believe I have a book in one of Des' saddle bags, I'll go get it. Something to read whilst I wait." I replied with a grin, pushing myself upwards onto my elbows, then hands, getting up as though I were about to leave.

Bran moved back slightly at the sudden action, sitting up against the tree by doing so. I saw his eyes widen in something close to panic.

I had half-risen to my feet when an arm encircled my waist and pulled me back down. Right on top of Bran. He was now leaning against the trunk of the tree with me seated sideways across his lap, his left arm wrapped easily around my waist, ensnaring me so I couldn't move. Not that I wanted to anyway, but still...

"You weren't actually going to go out there, were you?" He asked incredulously, a bemused smile gracing his features. "You'd get soaked through! Seven Hells, Alianor." He laughed.

A cold wind blew through our shelter, making me shudder a little and curl further into Bran. If I was going to be trapped here, I might as well make the most of Bran's lovely ability to be so extremely soft and warm. He was also much drier than I was. I tilted my head up to look at him as I spoke.

"Well can you blame me? I didn't want to be bored whilst I spent an age waiting for you to-"

My teasing words were cut off as Bran quickly pressed his lips to mine. He pulled back for after a brief second, leaving my mind reeling.

"-kiss me…" I muttered weakly, finishing my sentence with wide eyes.  
I saw Bran grin wolfishly for a second before his lips returned to mine. I felt myself freeze up in surprise for a moment, my eyes still open, but thankfully he didn't pull away again.

I didn't quite know how to react, so I decided to go with what came naturally, hoping nothing I did was wrong. Closing my eyes, I relaxed in his arms and did my best to kiss back.

His lips were soft as they moved with mine. He slipped his arm from around my waist so just his hand was at the small of my back. He pulled me closer to him, the warmth of his body against my cold one making me shiver.

I felt a hand thread itself in my hair and every part of me tingled like it did when Bran held my hand, only its intensity was ten-fold.

As he pulled away, my mouth fell open and I took in a silent, shaky breath. I felt as if I had been underwater and desperately needed air, though we hadn't kissed long enough for me to be so breathless, I thought absentmindedly.

Our faces were still close to one another's, his forehead touching mine, our noses brushing every now and then.

I hadn't noticed it, but my hands hand made their way to his chest some time during the kiss. I didn't move them from their current position, but I stared at them for a while, waiting for the dazed feeling to clear. I felt just I had during that first almost-kiss in front of my chambers. No amount of sweet wine had ever made me feel like this.

I was trying to think of something to say that wouldn't make me sound _entirely_ like an idiot.

"Well, that certainly wasn't how I pictured the first time I'd kiss you." Bran muttered quietly, more to himself than to me.

"Really?" I replied just as quietly, still looking at my hands. I hoped he could hear me over the rain that still pelted the lake and trees outside. I was worried what he would say next. Seven Hells, what if he was disappointed with it? I didn't think I had been all that bad, but I didn't have anything to compare it to, so…

"Um-hm. Like everything else that involves you, it was… different. It certainly didn't go as I had planned." He replied, glancing down at me. I expect he saw the look of panic I could feel forming on my face as he hastily added to his comment.

"It wasn't a bad sort of different by any means. But when you think about kissing a beautiful Dornish lady, you don't imagine doing so sitting under a tree in the pouring rain, dragging her into your lap wearing your sister's damp training clothes and cutting her off mid-sentence." I had to laugh when he put it like that.

"You make me do the strangest things, Alianor. Every time I leave you I spend an age wondering why I did the things I do with you. Then I spend another age wondering why I never regret doing so. " Bran admits, smiling softly, leaning his head back against the tree and closing his eyes briefly as he speaks. I watch him until he opens them to look down at me again.

I just look back at him, thinking up a response. Everything was very quiet, but was a comfortable silence.

Then I realised. Silence. **The rain has stopped! **My mind yelled happily.

As lovely as it was spending time alone with Bran, our shelter was starting to leak as the rain water worked its way through the leaves and branches.

"The rain's stopped, Bran!" I exclaim, turning sharply in his lap, still holding onto the front of clothes. My action made him jerk forward and tighten his grip around my waist, winding me slightly.

I heard Bran let out a small "oof" sound as I pulled him forward. I felt his chest rumble a little as he laughed soon after. His hand moved to clasp mine and pull them from him. He didn't let go of them after that though, keeping one of them held firmly in his.

"I see. We should go and check to see how the horses are and return to Winterfell before it starts again. It's a lot earlier than I had planned, but rain storms rarely travel alone in the North."

I nodded and started to get up. It wasn't as easy as I'd expected, since one of my hands was still lost somewhere within Bran's, but I managed. I helped to pull Bran up, picking up his cane and handing it too him as I did so.

A fair few moments later we were back by the horses, targets and bows strapped to the saddles again. We began riding back to the Winterfell, not talking as we took in the dark grey storm clouds that blanketed the sky.

Around the half-way mark they decided to open up again, a few drops here and there turning into an out-right downpour in seconds. The rest of the journey took almost no time at all as we galloped the final distance.

By the time we were back at the North Gate of Winterfell, I was completely soaked through. If I had thought I was damp back at the tree, I was a veritable drowned rat now.

Unfortunately there were no stable-hands to greet and help us once inside the gates, but that wasn't too much of a problem. We dismounted quickly and led the horses to the stable stalls.

After tying them to the posts safely under the wooden roofs and taking off their saddles, we started to make our way to the door that would take us into the passage-way. We had only gotten a little closer when I found myself ankle deep in water. It seemed a small pond had formed at the end of the courtyard, cutting us off completely.

The rain was coming down even harder now; so hard it felt like it was pricking my skin with every droplet. I had to shield my eyes in order to see, the heavy onslaught of water blurring my vision if I didn't.

Bran grabbed my hand and started to drag me off to the right.

"Come with me. I know another way back to the main courtyard." He called over the rain. I doubt he would have seen or heard any response I gave, so I just walked as fast as I could behind him, gripping his hand tightly so mine wouldn't slip out of his grasp with all the water.

I looked behind us for a moment to see if Des was alright and could just about make out the shapes of two horses standing peacefully at the back of their stalls. The rain pelted my face as I did so, making water drip into my eyes.

Another tug on my arm brought my attention back to Bran as he led me through a door I hadn't noticed before.

As I walked through the small doorway, a wave of warm air washed over me. It was a stark contrast to the icy rain and wind from only seconds ago and I quickly realised how much I was shaking from my time outside.

I released Bran's hand and wrapped my arms around myself to control the shudders that ran through me every now and then. Bran walked behind me and shut the door, cutting of the cold wind that had followed us inside.

Wiping away the last bits of water from my eyes and pushing back the hair sticking to my face, I looked around the room we had just entered.

Pots of flowers and patches of various plants lined the walls and floor, with only a maze of thin pathways between them to let you get from one end of the room to the other. The noise inside was somewhat quieter than outside, but only marginally.

The entire room was made of glass, so the constant tinkling peal of water hitting the roof filled the room. It was much more pleasant than the deafening roar of water on muddy ground. Vines lined the walls on both sides, with small white flowers dotting them here and there.

"Is this the G-glass House?" I asked Bran, remembering something I had read in one of the books in Winterfell's library. I winced slightly at the stutter, feeling my jaw trembling from the cold water still soaking my clothes. I was warming up, but it was a slow process.

"Yes." Bran replied, walking back over to me. "Gods, you're shaking, Alianor…" He said, a frown appearing as he looked at me. "Here…" He said, removing my cloak for me. "Your tunic and the rest of your clothing are made of wool, but you underclothes aren't. They're going to keep you cold for longer. I'd recommend you take them off to warm separately. You'll catch a chill otherwise." I nodded quickly and nodded for him to turn around. He did so, facing the wall with his hands clasped behind his back.

"What about you?" I asked as I took off my tunic and undershirt. My small-clothes were wet too, but they were woollen as Bran had said and were already warming. I started to put the tunic back on, leaving the undershirt on the floor. Next were my boots, which were a lot harder to remove, making me sit down so I wouldn't fall over.

"I'll be fine. My cloak was thicker than yours and kept me dry for the most part." He assured me, still facing the wall. By now the boots were off, as were my trousers and underclothes. I quickly pulled the damp trousers back on over my small-clothes. I felt much lighter without the extra layer the underclothes gave me.

Everything hung looser on my frame as well, and I had to pull the tunic back up onto my shoulder from where it had slipped. I brushed the dry dirt of the Glass House pathways from my feet and slipped my boots back on. Looking down at myself, I was reminded of the children that ran through the streets of the towns along the Torentine river.

"Done." I said simply, letting Bran know it was safe to look again. I bent down to gather up my underclothes in a messy bundle, placing them by my cloak on the ground. I had stopped shaking now.

"Better?" Bran asked, and I felt him turn to face me again. I straightened up from the pile of clothing to catch him watching me, his eyes taking in my current state of dress, an eyebrow quirking ever so slightly as he noticed the now rather loose fitting clothing.

The whole act only took a second, but I saw it. I hated the flush that crept up my neck, but I held out hope that he would assume it was from the heat inside the Glass House. I nodded and sent him a grateful smile.

"Good. We'll stay in here until there's a break in the rain." He stated, looking up at the roof where a constant stream of water ran down and off the panels.

Bran closed the gap between us and placed both hands on my shoulders, before lightly running them down my upper arms. Their course ended with his arms wrapped around me, holding me closer to his body with only a small gap between us. I wrapped my arms around his waist in response, closing that gap entirely. I tilted my head far back to meet his eyes as he stared down at me.

"While we're here, there's something I want to show you." He said softly. "I was saving it for another time, but since your trapped with me until the rain passes…" He reached up and brushed a bit of wet hair from my face.

Pulling back, I took his hand instead. "Lead the way."

"They're just at the other end of the Glass House. You can leave your things here." Bran said, heading off in the direction he had gestured to as he spoke.

I trailed behind him, looking at the plants and flowers as we passed them by. The Glass House was much larger than I had first thought, as it took the same amount of time to get to the other end as it did to walk to our clearing in the Godswood.

We had been walking a while when I decided to run through my knowledge of Winterfell to try and guess what he was going to show me. I was only up to my knowledge of the root vegetables grown in the Glass House when I suddenly felt a quick squeeze on my hand.

"Stop that."

"Pardon?"

"Stop thinking." The smile was clear to hear in Bran's deep voice as he spoke. I let out a rather unladylike snort at his order.

"Stop thinking? Goodness Bran, why so masterful?" I remarked with a smirk I knew Bran couldn't see. I'm sure he felt it though, as he stopped abruptly and turned around, mirth in his eyes.

"I didn't mean it like that," He said, trying to glare at me, but failing.

"I would ask what you _did_ mean it like then, but since I'm not allowed to think, I can't remember which words to use. Oh well!" I knew I was being childish, but it was strangely fun. I challenged Bran with my eyes for a moment, struggling not giggle.

"Alianor…" Bran warned playfully. Wide and mock innocent eyes accompanied my reply.

Which was made up of me waving my hands around my mouth, gesturing to my self-sealed lips, and then shrugging deeply.

"I only meant for you too… I didn't mean…" Another sigh followed his words. "I'm not going to win this, am I?"

I shook my head like a small child, small bits of still-wet hair flicking my skin as I did so, beaming at Bran.

"Look, we're almost there. Could you _please_ try to not think for just a few moments? It's entirely up to you, but I promise you won't be disappointed if you leave it as a mystery for this last little bit. "

I watched him for a moment, pretending to think about his offer.

"I suppose I _could_… And I will. But I'll need you to do something for me when we get to wherever we're going. Deal?"

"As you wish." He replied, leaning down to kiss the top of my head quickly, before grinning happily and pulling me along again. I stumbled along behind him, giggling to myself at his enthusiasm.

* * *

*Hides under her writing desk* I'm so sorry it's taken so long to update.

There's a list of about thirteen different things that happened over the past month that stopped me writing for half of it, and then unable to upload anything for the other half once something _was _written. I won't bore you with details, but I hope it won't take quite this long again (though now that I'm back at school, it may).

To those who review (especially SweetImagination15, His Royal Pratness, BrighteningLight and the-two-girls-fanfiction-house), thank you so much. And Guest, be you one person or many, thank you for your reviews too. :D

Hope you liked the chapter, and comment, critique or correct in the reviews bit if you wish. :) Have a lovely day/night/time inbetween.

XO Jennifer


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